last sunday
i heard a loud thump
something had struck our living room window
i went and looked
and on the porch lay a newly dead bird
its neck broken
blood along the margins of its beak
i didn't want to tell my wife
she lay in bed, apart
but soon she was up and she saw
there were no secrets that day
i dug a hole in front of our house
my wife placed her heart in her hands
and held the bird in gentle sorrow
we were quiet witnesses
we lay flowers for a nest
and spread mother earth for cover
we said goodbye in the cool of autumn
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