(miniflash story)

Frost painted delicate patterns on bare branches as a tiny sparrow named Pip huddled against the bitter winter wind. His feathers, puffed up like a small wool coat, offered little comfort against the biting cold. The bird feeder that had been his regular breakfast spot lay empty, covered in a thick blanket of snow.

Pip hopped from branch to branch, his tiny feet leaving ephemeral prints in the white powder. Other sparrows had flown south, but something in his heart had told him to stay. The city park, his home, needed at least one guardian of spring’s memory.

Through the shortest days, he survived on forgotten crumbs near café windows and precious seeds that kind elderly ladies scattered in the square. Each morning, he would sing a short song, despite the cold – a reminder that warmth would return.

One particularly harsh morning, Pip discovered a special gift: a young girl had hung a homemade feeder from his favorite maple tree. As sunlight sparkled off icicles above, Pip realized that even in winter’s depths, kindness bloomed like the earliest spring flower…