Red Bird

I suspected her dead

the juvenile red bird

like points on a compass

flat lined in every direction

She blinked, turned her head,

last of her lines blurred

She allowed me pass

Hastening me to genuflection

placing her gently abed

My love for her undeterred

It is her path from us

Her death in retrospection.

This entry was posted in Human.

2 comments on “Red Bird

  1. loonmom says:

    Is this about your chicken? It’s beautiful at any rate. Mom

    (She,her, hers) Be the change you wish to see in the world.—Gandhi Sent from my iPhone


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