Downed Bird In Repose

A loud squawk heralds a cry for help Indicates something’s not quite right up there A white seagull spirals down head first Wings tucked to the side for safety The impact signals something else With a thud that meets the burning sand The flight plan? Suicide? Friendly fire? In silence the ocean waves over the expired Giving blessings as best it can off shore Clouds bulk up in cumulus nimbus numbers In slumber the sun keeps social distancing In gray the bay teaches crabs to dance To stay back. Don’t walk on land. Don’t talk to strangers. Hawks, buzzards, circle the situation Never far from home are troubles up above Heaven recovers nature in an hour glass of sand Mounds of sands are another term for dunes Smoothed over by the hand of God Still intact, winds lift a phantom wing Animated feathers salute. Wave good-bye From what we can surmise From the bird demised