Poetry

I came across a dead bird today

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I paused and Quietly cried
It just laid there broken and grey
Energy and stasis bound to collide
Little bird, little bird
No mom there to mend
Your chirps no longer heard
I weep as you ascend
Here, your spirited wings no longer soar
Your essence remains grounded forever more.
Tick tock, we are all knocking on that door
The looming trees

The looming trees

 

8 replies »

  1. There is something about roadkill that is so deeply sad although I guess it’s the way of the land. I spotted a run over rabbit on a rural road this week and it seemed such a waste. Strong poem!

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  2. Nicely done for such a short piece.

    I’m reminded of a time when my mother came across a bird, little more than a baby, which had crashed into our window. The poor creature had lost its way in flight somehow and was already taking its last breaths when she called us over. She was very upset and asked us to help her bury it, which we did.

    A sad little sight, but I like to think we gave it some peace; better than rolling it up in a napkin and tossing it in the trash.

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  3. Of all flights taken, enjoyed and brave
    more valued than more time to have
    Of none to mourn, all mourners gone
    but his seeds surely were passed on

    Of lives lived short, but wild as buck
    no animal resents his luck
    Of cycles closed with violence
    close still with dignified silence

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