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Bird Death Poems | Bird Poems About Death

These Bird Death poems are examples of Bird poems about Death. These are the best examples of Bird Death poems written by international PoetrySoup poets

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Details | Free verse | |

Death Tolls

The atmosphere rings with the bell like calls
of the plover flock, long before they are spotted.
The flight herringbones a grey fedora sky.
Markings of white and coal black weave,
wing-stitched, a blanket maker’s dream.

Sigh makers 	they close on the beach 
at high tide, the horizon shivers      the
sand blanches. These ravishing scavengers
light on the tattered edge of wet to dry,
dawdling with the dead.

Plovers are diminutive scroungers, one-legged
dancers, hopping to the pull of tide, dining on
crab-eggs in black-tie and feathered tails, their
gray skull caps lined with a black brow. 
Sparrow-small birds dress to the nines. 
A feast for the birds, fall crisps, crab moltings,
go on for endless miles. September is beginning
and soon winged ones will fly to sunny shores.
The cold Atlantic will moan for the loss of music,
the unstitched sky will part. The avian choir is off 
to the mud flats of Carolina. 

First Published Eunoia Review January 2015

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2015

Details | Quatrain | |

The Raven

Through the open window
An unintended entry way
Pale the moonlight streaming
Careless, now the price to pay

It perched upon my bedpost
All reality to confound
A tilted head, a beady eye
As yet he made no sound

My secret now revealed
He knew my every thought
My visitor in a feathered cape
Harbinger of death he brought

At last a guttural  caw I heard
And in terror begged" no more",
"Leave me be to my just fate
for yes, I killed the fair Lenore"….

With apology to Mr... Poe

Copyright © Barbara Gorelick | Year Posted 2014

Details | Lyric | |


A nobody 
Scared by the sound of his own voice
Following the girl home from school
In his mind this is normal
Stalking girls
He grabs her jacket
Pulling her backwards unto the ground
Placing a cloth around her nose and mouth
Gagging her until she sleeps for a while
He drags her through the woods
Branches hitting her every which way he turns
Dragging her along until he reaches the cabin
Picking her up over his shoulders opening the door to the cellar
Locking the door behind him he walks down the stairs slowly
He places her on a chair and ties her wrist to the handles
Tying her feet to the legs of the chair
Tightening the rope around her neck to the back of the chair
He undresses her waiting for her to wake up
Several hours pass 
She wakes up
Sweating and screaming
Crying and yelling at him
He places duct tape around her mouth
Placing a knife against her stomach
She groans and yelps
He takes the knife away and looks at her
Grabbing her face and telling her shes beautiful
He turns around and stands with his back towards her
As he starts to say
But its the beautiful people that need fixing
He takes the tape off her face and holds her chin tightly
He carves a smile on her face
Cutting her mouth from ear to ear
Telling her
Smile dear it makes you adorable
He grins and sits the knife down
Laughing as she bleeds
She tries to move her mouth
It just drops open
He looks at her smiling
Now that makes you truly beautiful
He leaves her there for a while
Later returning
Placing a needle with a string attached to it
Sticking it into the skin around her mouth that is hanging open
He stitches her back together
Cant make up his mind
He slaps her and leaves her there for another few days
She sits with her eyes peeled wide open
A tear falling as she tries wiggling her hand free from the rope
As she frees her hand she runs her fingers over her stitches
Only to find out her whole mouth has been stitched together
She cant speak
She can only mumble
She frees the rest of  her limbs
Trying to stand up and walk but she's to weak and falls
He runs down the stairs
Yelling at her to get up
She doesn't move
He kicks her in the stomach
She doesn't budge
He picks her up and uses her as a puppet 
For his own needs
He then buries her beside his other victims
Only to find out shes still alive
Her hand slips through the dirty old mud


Copyright © Orlin Collier | Year Posted 2013

Details | Sonnet | |

A Life Sentence

Dear freedom, your sweet innocent voice seems
Now like a distant echo, lost in the wind.
Hopes lost in a set of broken dreams,
With heavy chains, to your heart of stone pinned.

Day by day, night by night, without an end in sight,
Tortured by the ravaging beak of time, flying
With wings of solit'de, displaying its might, 
And hatred-filled eyes, watching me dying. 

These chains around my heart like a vicious snake
Poisoning my soul with darkness and despair. 
A dreadful nightmare from which I will wake
And look into destiny's most wicked glare. 

I stand under shadows cast by heaven's light,
And into sleep I fade, witho't a fight.

Copyright © Andres Rocha | Year Posted 2014

Details | Sestina | |

The Maid, the Magpie and the Mirror

Gazing, at its own reflection is the Magpie.
A magic bird, a mystical creature, with a soul
and the power to see things, the power of scrying.
It sees a tomb in ancient Egypt. It sees death.
A soul locked within a glorious bronze mirror,
Cleopatra and her Maid in a bond unbroken.

Time passes in silence as deep as the unbroken
promise of endless wisdom, gifted by the Magpie.
whose caws the Maid hears, within the depths of the mirror,
calls to the Queen, her Cleopatra, to her soul.
Magpie speaks to She on the Eastern Barge in the afterlife of death,
and to her Maid entombed. The sacred bird so near scrys.

The Magpie sits within oasis staring into the pool. It scrys
for all this time, its vigil, its protection, never broken.
Even when the sarcophagus is carried to the necropolis of the dead,
without, unknown, the bird speaks wisely through reflection, her Magpie.
Entombed, his Queen and her Maid, their bodies but not their souls,
Queen, Maid and Magpie, each cast a last gaze, alive within the mirror.

The Vows of Innocence, the Maid bespeaks the mirror.
Pleas to the Swallower of Shades, both Queen and Maid have scried
to The Burning One, and claim no lie, upon their soul.
As the light dims within the Maids eyes, in tomb unbroken,
she sees the life of her Queen and their Magpie
pass fast upon the brass, last breath of life and dying.

Oh, too soon the end, moans the Maid, I am dying.
Her life's reflection moves bronzed upon the mirror.
She screams, "My Queen," but hears only the caw of Magpie.
All around her other servants succumb and cry, whilst she sits scrying,
and the Magpie flies above in life entombed, eternity, unbroken.
As she beseeches all the Gods to save her soul.

The Magpie's spirit self moves within the mirror's soul.
He swoops gathering Cleopatra's essence, past the dying,
and brings her to the Maids side unbroken.
In afterlife upon the Eastern Barge they join the mirrored
whole, for he, the bird of magic, Magpie, has called and scried
it so. Part light of life, part dark of death, the Magpie.

The essence of each entwine united within this eternal mirror
for the Magpie cannot bear their deaths. He will protect and forever scry
in life the mirror sits unbroken a stolen bauble, and in it they dwell with the Magpie.

Copyright © Debbie Guzzi | Year Posted 2010

Details | Free verse | |

Sense of Touch

That Bench He goes there every day; to that bench in the shade; Where his shoes have formed small clearings in the gravel; where his wool sport coat has rubbed smooth the paint. He goes there every day, to that bench in the shade where the squirrels eat straight from his hand as little birds frantically snatch up seeds he's sprinkled about. He goes there every day, to that bench in the shade but not today…and not again.
08/30/15 Submission for Contest: The Sense of Touch Sponsored by: Nette Onclaud

Copyright © The Grahamburglar | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

Destiny of a Bird

She flings her body skyward
as every winter before, her heart afire,
 she follows a pre set- migratory course,
 divinely guided, from half a world away.

Coming or going her destination
 always becomes home, 
 to nest again -raise another brood
knowing that generations drive her grand obsession-
the self- exile she endures  heavy on her breast

She sees around her unfamiliar landscape
 longs for lush valleys and trees of evergreen
With each day  her inner call grows stronger, 
fills her with an urgent sense to  flight
 to take to the endless skies- one tiny bird, uncertain, of her flock,
 alone in the vast and blue unfriendly sky

Her wings falter, she feels that death is near,
a last flight comes for every bird.
It seems, what divine force
 held her course before - is gone
she tries but her flight turns aimless
Below, the landscape is a map- less blur
 that baffles her tiny brain

From the dark valleys below a black fog rises
Hostile winds impede her faltering flight
until the ground without  warning or  ill-will
calls the tiny form again to earth.

Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2014

Details | Light Poetry | |

Ode to My Chickens

Three of my chickens are dead and they have left a hole in my heart,
I want to mark their passing, prove that they were alive and very much loved by me,
They were real, breathing and full of life from the start,
Oh they made me laugh, so hilarious and quirky; such fun hidden away on our allotment, 
They did no great deeds, were not famous and hardly anyone knew they were there,
Alert and trusting, they followed my steps, looked at me with their heads to one side, wondering and seeing,
They slept in my arms and closed their tiny eyes when I stroked under their beaks,
Laid eggs and loved wholemeal bread, sometimes combining the two in to a healthy treat in their run, pecking and pinching whatever they could, 
Stood on my spade when I was trying to dig, and ate the biggest worms I ever did see,
Had me running in circles to catch them, jumped out of the hutch when I thought I’d put them in,
Kicked over their food tin so I’d give them more and always hid in the shed,
Rearranged their sleeping compartments when I had just cleaned them out, kicking the neat straw all over,
Ate all of my winter cabbages and nibbled at my sprouts, sat on the compost heap and looked around, Queens of the allotment!
Were brave in the face of danger, survived against the odds,
When poorly, they slept cozily in my basement, and understood when it was time to die,
They may have only been chickens to most, but to me they were my friends,
Always pleased to see me, they needed me, and greeted me loudly every day,
Three lives have been taken, but I will not forget them,
I will look back and smile, and talk kindly of Muriel, Edith and Ethel,
For they were the three hens that taught me that all life is precious, no matter how unnoticeable and small. 

Copyright © Fran Slimon | Year Posted 2014

Details | Free verse | |

The Grief of Crows

Soaring above the bushfire's flames,
astounded crows, blacker than charred
tree trunks, flap spectral wings.

Numb with loss, no caws drone out.
Wind rushes in updrafts from
the smoky heat: to rise as a vengeful spirit,
to hammer at fleeing pinions,
to witness aimless circles above coal black trees,
now absent of rough stick nests.

Suzanne Delaney

Copyright © Suzanne Delaney | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

The Twilight Moor

Gazing out upon dusky barren moor,
Where gray grass grasps the air
Finding no purchase but sad allure
Straight stalks elapse their endless despair.

Teased by tales of golden reach
Tricked by gales, whose song they preach.

Redtail’s velvet wings breach the sky,
Maroon lips who kiss the grass
Stirring the song, its desperate sigh
Catching the words, her beak of crystal glass

Behind her, midnight shadow draws
Fells her beauty with unseen charcoal paws

Scarlet tears dampen the earth below
Nurture the roots held by dusty truth
Finally, the wind, gray grass’ will bestow
The hawk once, now the fountain of youth.

Litany of silence reigns in dusky glare,
Each blade bowed in mournful prayer.

Copyright © Avery Swarthout | Year Posted 2015

Details | Villanelle | |

Deadly Raven

Sitting atop the old decaying tree Is a deadly raven quite pathetic Where his lusting eyes do more than just see An unsuspecting group thinks they are free Raven thinks of a move that’s genetic Sitting atop the old decaying tree No-one knows what it’s like to truly be One of this group, death is just magnetic Where his lusting eyes do more than just see Down he swoops taking one soul completely Returns to tree, looking quite poetic Sitting atop the old decaying tree The raven smiles as he caws wickedly Soul collecting might be more aesthetic Where his lusting eyes do more than just see The raven flies high looking lustfully All that he’s collected that’s prophetic Sitting atop the old decaying tree Where his lusting eyes do more than just see
Russell Sivey

Copyright © Russell Sivey | Year Posted 2013

Details | Blank verse | |

kill two birds with one stone

kill two birds with one stone 
why kill two birds with one stone
when one can kill them 
more efficiently with a drone
or more appropriately 
LOVE them through A poem

Copyright © RUDOLPH RINALDI | Year Posted 2015

Details | Narrative | |

I loved My Life of Bird

I fly in the sky
I swim in the sea 
I sleep in the night
And in the trees I live

The forest once was my home
That I always cherished
For me and every one
Who lived on this beautiful heaven?

Coming into the flame of fire
Together with my family
Helps me to remember and tell to all
That has caused the dead of all?

Came five days ago
Three to four men
With something in there mind known as the plan
To destroy what was known as our home

Came few men 
After few days
To destroy us all together with the forest
To clear the land

They lighted the fire
They parked some big bulldozers
To clear the trees and removes the stones
After everything is burnt by the flames of the fire

Together with my family
Praying to the god as one
To forgive our sin 
And tell the reason for this everything

Nothing I heard from up
But something from down 
As few men said
For the development, let happen this destruction

Copyright © B S Sky | Year Posted 2013

Details | Free verse | |

The Humans and I

Ones who wage,
Ones who rage,
Ones who take,
Ones who pay,
Ones who craze,
Ones who rave,
Ones who crave…

Ones who fear,
Ones who breathe,
Ones who give,
Ones who need,
Ones who will,
Ones who weave…

Ones who plead,
Ones who beg,
Ones who beseech,
Ones who entreat,
Ones who appeal,
Ones who volunteer,
Ones who disappear…

The ones who follow,
The ones that don’t know about tomorrow,
The ones who don’t deserve the morrow…

The ones who sleep,
The ones who cry,
The ones who live,
The ones who die…

The ones who proclaim,
Those who say they create,
The ones who ache,
The ones who don’t wait,
The ones who hesitate,
The ones who don’t concentrate,
The ones who fornicate,
The ones who procrastinate…

Those who fall in temptation,
Those who get in frustration,
Those who sometimes feel desperation,
Those who keep going without caution,
Those in motion,
Those in tension,
Those losing notion,
Those being poisoned,
Those getting in distortion,
Those following the broken diction,
Those dying like the billions,
Those without unction,
Those washed in the oceans…

I might seem cold,
But it is you who is bold.
I might not express,
But it is you who doesn’t let me progress.
I might not seem like I seek,
But it is you who doesn’t know me…
I might seem like I need,
But it is you who might always be begging on your knees.
I might seem dull,
But it is the one that is fool.
I might not be alight,
But it is you who isn’t truly alive…

I will remain neutral,
I will remain silver,
I will remain gray,
I feel darkness,
I feel light,
I will remain hallowed…,
After all, it is you who deserves no life…

I am a metal hawk,
I am a mountain goat,
I am a silver bird,
I am a gray wolf,
I am a white tiger,
I am a mystic rose…,
I am I…

I’m alive,
And I survive,
You are here,
However, it is you who deserves no life…

Being human does not imply that you have humanity…

Copyright © Ruben A. Hernandez Diaz | Year Posted 2013

Details | Classicism | |

Give Me Wings

Give Me Wings

Don’t weep or cry for me;
When my journey has come to it’s end.
Don’t call out my name in sorrow;
Just sing a song to the wind.

Don’t remember me with only sadness;
As if all I am is buried in the soil.
Don’t forget the most important thing;
That life is beautiful.

Don’t speak of me in past tense;
Allowing my memory to fade.
Who says that I am not still here;
Perhaps it is you that has pulled away.

Don’t take my pictures off the wall;
Or write my name in cement.
Tell my stories to your friends;
Laugh but do not lament.

When you come to visit my grave;
Don’t lay flowers on the ground.
Instead, sprinkle birdseed;
So the winged ones will gather round.

When the nights grow weary;
And you are lonesome without me there.
Close your eyes and dream;
You’ll find feathers everywhere.

What you feed will continue to live;
What you forget will die.
What you grieve over lays forever;
But give me wings and I will fly.

Darlene Doll Smith 

Copyright © Darlene Smith | Year Posted 2015

Details | Haiku | |

Haiku 5

In its final soar 
Finds the limb it learned to fly 
Lands, to fly no more 

Gene Bourne


Copyright © Gene Bourne | Year Posted 2014

Details | Haiku | |

Haiku 5 - mournful cries, way of nature, flight into eternity

mournful cries fill the air
mother bird calling for its baby
eaten by the cat

mantis catches butterfly
I am sad: yet, that is 
the way of nature

loud feathered thud
- flight into eternity
deceptive glass pane

Copyright © john beharry | Year Posted 2013

Details | Rhyme | |

RIP little Moses

Rest in peace little Moses, 
your job here is done.
In birdie years 
you had a good run.

Fly up to the heavens, 
free and with joy.
I'll miss your sweet song
my lovely, wee boy.

A joy you had been 
for many a year
and I'll miss you my friend,
a pet, oh so dear.

Goodbye little Moses, 
may God give you wing
to fly through the heavens 
and with angels sing.

Copyright © Francine Roberts | Year Posted 2015

Details | Elegy | |

Still Flying

The day I chose you
Compared to all the others
I saw the uniqueness of your colors
Looking back when you flew away
Broke my heart in pieces and stole all peace in living
When you were found my heart raced fast
I was beyond grateful that you came back
We moved forward and life was good
Until one day when you seemed strange
I saw you bleeding out in pain
Then news struck that you were sick
and surgery would bring an unknown risk
The vet said there was a slim chance 
Like the usual medical script
Uncertain and scared I couldn't bare
To hear the panting from your chest
All from too big an egg 
You couldn’t lay in your nest
Your appetite was lost and I was at a loss
I cupped you in my hands
Warm and unharmed
You were like snow melting away
Drifting from my heart
A change of season
There was a reason
For this lesson to be learned
You held on for the holidays to make our last memories
When the day of your dying came
It sure left me crying
But I know that you are...still flying

Copyright © Mango Lux | Year Posted 2016

Details | Narrative | |

Darkest Day

In loving memory of Silly

The ominous clouds brew, icy darkness looms,
Evil cackle flashes sparks of its menacing fangs,
Sinking them deep into my soft yellow downy,
Yanking me apart, leaving me naked and lonely.

I shiver, tremble and chatter.
Mama, mama, where have you been?
I look at my nest up in the tree,
Mama, mama, why did you leave me?

Gnarled tree branches snatched away my home,
Clawing, ripping and towering tall over me,
The fall - blurred vision of trees, terror painfully gnaws,
Now, only, cold and numbness as I cannot feel my claws.

I inch forward slowly to find a worm.
Mama would have picked some for me.
But now, I scarce can see no hope,
The bittersweet taste of the worm makes me choke.

Suddenly, I find I am nestled in a little girl's hands.
The slightest tinge of warmth delights me,
Gently, she ruffles through my scarce feathers,
Puffing up, I brace the changing weather.

The pungent smell of the rain stings my nostrils,
I chirp helplessly in disgust,
Tears from the sky pelt on me, lashing out angrily,
I retreat, sink back in, and cry along silently.

Her home smells of fresh toast,
Mine smells of juicy worms, but I settle in anyway.
The fall has crushed my feet in its cruel hands,
My feet are broken, I cannot stand.

For the next few hours, I wallow in misery.
She knows nothing about my agonising pain,
But fits me into a sock to keep me warm,
As I listen to the sighing trees mourn.

The sock begins to feel cold and icy,
I try to swallow the slimy papaya she mushed,
But in my throat, the concoction swells and becomes thicker,
Burning sensation, daylight flickers.

I shiver, tremble and chatter.
Mama, mama, where have you been?
The rain distorts my view of my tree, 
Mama, mama, why did you leave me?

You guaranteed my freedom one day
You never said the price I had to pay
To never see another sun ray

If my life were a thread, it would now have frayed
What little daylight I saw had become grey
And as I cuddled up and started to pray

I became an angel today.

Copyright © Priscilla Lewis | Year Posted 2013

Details | Tanka | |

Carrion Watchers

Through the mists they land Carried by darkened wings, spread Sensing, they await Suspended death in decay Inhumanities now shared .

Copyright © James Fraser | Year Posted 2015

Details | Lyric | |



                             The Apple PASTURE

Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture.
Were once was and all well meet.
A pure and dear site.
Where silver reflection cover the still waters that holds the golden
grains of morality and the grazing souls lie young amounce no stars.
Oh how I long
To drift into the apple pasture
Were winds smell of melon and the trees whisper spring corals in the mellow dark and best of light and time creeps into no tomorrow.


Copyright © JAY JOHNSON | Year Posted 2011

Details | Tanka | |

Perils of Nature

                                          spring bursts into life
                                     nesting birds chirp and twitter

                                        guard their eggs like pearls

                                 hatched, chicks feed while prey watches

                               weak chick falls, snatched, strong survive

Written on 3/26/2015

Copyright © Laura Leiser | Year Posted 2015

Details | Verse | |

'Death Of A Bird'

A pretty bird Sang upon a fence Until a cat jumped to pull a wing down Sad little bird lay on the ground within sharp claws Trembling Struggling With no real hope Her feeble attempts doomed No more will I hear her sweet song on the fence Sadness Finished The cat moves on Close by a nest of babies wait Pretty bird looks one final time at the sky One last chirp Verse November 28, 2012

Copyright © Broken Wings | Year Posted 2012

Details | Dramatic Verse | |

A Raven Twice Removed

This large dark creature fluffs its wings at me, causing fear and shame. However, I have done nothing wrong to it. Yet, it snares at me in pain. I am afraid, but I call to it and it comes close, but not near for fear. Why is this creature afraid, or is it just the Human trade. I call, it comes, I show by my outstretched hands, then gently touches my hands and pecks. Then, flies away a greeting we have made known, no more to be afraid. The Raven twice removed to come back another day.

Copyright © Marilyn Williams | Year Posted 2015

Details | Free verse | |

The Weeping Drum

Ta pime yaah ta pime yaah bam
Rata tata rata tata bam
Ta pime yaah ta pimi yaah bam
Tears drip from the face of the weeping drum. 
The drum the drum the drum
Screaming and shouting
Crackling and rackling 
Dispelling a mighty woeful sound.  
Ica mama ica mama rata tata rata tata bam.
Thousand of them pouring in the street 
Following the sorrowful and painful drum beat
amba picka  amba picka  amaba  pika bam
Girt up your waist and run
Ban your belly and come
Weeping and wailing flooding the street
Mournful singers and dancers entertaining in grief
While traditional women light thousand of candles
To feed the souls and expel the dark forces of the devil.
Ah namba ramba tata ramba tata  bam
Emotions run high, increasing tension in the sky 
Filling hearts with burden too heavy to bear 
Causing them to rent their garment in despair.
lingo bam bam lingo bam
bam lingo bam bam lingo bam
The sound grew louder and louder
Waking everyone out of their agonizing slumber
And forcing them to congregate in village, cities and towns.
They beat the drums all night, and marched around the city wall
Blowing horns, chanting despondent words that it might fall.
Beat the drum brother man 
Round up the youths to join the band
Sound the drum a little louder 
March into the devils territory
And trample Lucifer under your feet.
Beat the drum brother man
Beat the drum and sing a victory song
Ta pime yaah ta pime yaah bam
Rata tata rata tata bam
Beat the drums brother man
Beat the drum for Mr. Steve and drag him into the circle
Ica mama ica, mama rata tata rata tata bam.
Expel the tormenting spirit of that relentless destructive devil.
Rata tata rata tata bam.
                                                                      ©2014 Christine Phillips

Copyright © Christine Phillips | Year Posted 2014

Details | Verse | |

Upside Down the Ancient Bole

The white-breasted nuthatch
upside down the ancient bole.
If it has no soul, neither do I.

Pencils criss-crossed on the desk,
sticks tangled on the ground.
Oblong lenticels, yellow stars.

We try to worship the divine
in our sexual partners. They shit and sweat diurnally
and fear their deaths. But the abstract

God has also died. He lied to say he was
eternal. Earth must burn, universe grow cold.
Old field species become ornamentals.

Mosquitoes prey on us, and black flies.
The body decays, and this is what you come
to love. And the ants that carry it away.

This morning, the profusion of species
contents me. The temperate zone is warm, late May.
The posture of that bird is good to emulate.

Copyright © Robert Ronnow | Year Posted 2015

Details | Haiku | |

Hungry Bird

Look! Splashing fat fish.
Circling gull hovers low,
eyeing breakfast dish

For Picture Perfect Haiku #2
Contest by SKAT A

Copyright © Darlene Gifford | Year Posted 2015

Details | Haiku | |

Finite Life

Hungry hawk gliding, below he spots rabbit-prey; life is so finite!

Copyright © M. L. Kiser | Year Posted 2015

Details | Questionku | |

Songs of a Setting Sun

dusk’s curtain ends
a bird’s melody
what of your legacy

tick tock amends
near the sum of days
are you still in old ways

for what transcends
your last setting sun
have you left it undone

Contest: Questionku Two
Sponsor: Richard Lamoureux

Copyright © rob carmack | Year Posted 2015