Your death knell sounded against my window
while a crow,
probably the one who had bullied you,
laughed overhead.
You twisted and flapped in the roadlanding where you had flown
in your last moment of lucidity
while your distressed mate chirped from above.
Like your cardinal feathers,
your blood flowed red
across your orange beak
and scattered in spots across pristine white.
I watched in silence, unable to help
as you shuddered
and gasped your last breaths,
my tears like those chirps overhead
fell on silent snow.
3 comments:
Great post.
Touching..
Costas
There is nothing sadder than a dead bird.
I know just how you feel. I cringe every time I hear that thud. Fortunately they are rare, but it is heartbreaking every time.
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