Yard Work

Yard Work I worked with stern and determined face attention on the end of the rake the fresh grass and orange leaves. Out of the corner of my eye I saw a small bird huddled fixed against the drain pipe, its wings tight against its body. It didn't stir. I bent closer and saw the milky film over its dark eyes. A drape of sadness was thrown callously over my morning. I buried it quickly and carefully. Time to take care to scrape away the sharp rocks and hollow out a little place deep enough to keep the dogs away and with such care as I chose the final home for this tiny thing. It may have been taken away to make room for another. While I write this, several months have passed and my throat still tightens from the memory. Sadness and loss is still with me and with me for all the birds that fall from their nests or the sky every day from now until eternity.