Sometimes Death Becomes Us
“What’s that,“ I said at dusk last night ?
“I don’t hear anything,“ he said.
“That thump,” I said!
“I didn’t hear it,” he said.
“I think it was a bird,“ I said.
“I went and checked all the windows and sliders.
“I doubt it,” he said.
My gut knew different.
Feeding the tortoises this morning, I found the bird under the double pain window.
I was shocked.
Death became it.
It is sad. I am sad.
It looked beautiful and at peace.
Death is life.