There were two birds on the Broad Street subway this morning. Sparrows swooping from handhold to seat back. I did not know how to help them. How did they get there? Flew in when the train was above ground maybe. Swallowed by the tunnel to the underground.

Without the sky to guide no sense of what “out” looks like. Opening doors set them darting away in fear. The way out as perilous to them as the way forward. Two birds on the train on this cold Monday in November. I leave them behind, walking through the opening door I know will take me to the sky.