Gravity, the bird god

Yesterday, I saw a bird fall.
I assume from the oak across the street,
because in the sky there is nothing to trip on but clouds,
he wouldn't get back up from that.
Who's to say he tripped though,
maybe he was pushed,
perhaps it wasn't his fault,
I can't imagine birds are that malicious though
so I doubt it.
But then again
I don't think they are clumsy enough either
It goes against nature,
what lives above shouldn't be careless enough
to fall down, but I saw it. A straight line
from up there
to down here.

The bird didn't fall like a leaf though,
or a feather for that matter,
it was a black blur succumbing
to forces beyond itself.
Perhaps it was pulled instead of pushed,
gravity finally winning the fight,
the one that bird had started,
The tempting, the mocking.

I heard it, squawking,
screaming. Not one long scream,
but it was more intermittent
like cries,
for help? Maybe.
From who?
Is there a bird god?
If anything it was gravity who made him
what he was in the first place.
Or maybe it was blind fear, because it knew
this shouldn't be happening.
It didn't know how to fall before.

And when it made impact with the ground
I could hear the compaction of hollow bones
into thick clay bricks.
And it lay, crying for a few moments
before bouncing back up,
like a racquet ball in slow motion,
flying into the air, finding another branch.
I wonder what he thought afterward.
I wonder if he did it to himself
just to see what he had been missing.
But I've been here awhile,
you're not missing much, bird.