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
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