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.
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