The Loss of a Songbird

As I step into the wood

I hear nature’s song, oh so good

The song of a small bird,

he fills the world without a word

At the peak of a sweet crescendo,

a feather is left as a discrete memento

Away I see a noble fox trot,

for today his body will not rot

I look into the canopy of leaves 

and realize nature will always leave you to grieve. 



15 years old

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