A few days ago, the lovely Isobel commented that I’m addicted to photo challenges. She’s right of course, I am, even my own weekly Thursday one. So this week, just for a change there’re no photo inspired haiku, just a little poem.
Twig legs, and wings collapsed like a fallen angel,
flown too early in this false spring of harsh, March winds.
Breast not red, but orange, flame extinguished now,
the once piercing eyes, blank
issue a question .
Have I the courage to answer?
could I have fed this hungry yearling?
Skeletal, with moulting feathers,
starved, desperate, chilled and lost
with a cracked, fairy porcelain beak
No grassy resting place,
in a well-tended suburban border.
No crow will dine on her bones,
on that flagstone path in need of repair.
Rather, old Mr Jones scooping her precious remains,
into a Waitrose bag and the black wheelie bin.
This, my totem bird will never renew,
but her spirit has found release, a regeneration,
as my raw heart has revealed,
a new compassion for self, rebirth.
On my walk to work a few days ago I saw a dead robin on the path, I did a double take – seeing a dead bird is quite unusual. It made me cry, and I still have the image in my mind, this poem is my response.
Jo isn’t lazy, but she has posted a joyful, spring haiku this Thursday, it definitely cheered me up, thanks honey!