A Little Grave

A Little Grave

playing cowboy,
I found it beneath the climbing tree
broken, discarded, dead
wrinkled like it had lived for hundreds of years

an infant sparrow
another Icarus
plummeted but never flew near the sun
allowed only one flight
a fall
broken

the tiny thing
clutches me tightly with limp claws
snapping me up in it's motionless beak
I stare mouth hanging open
salmon like

it finally lets go and I run
"Come quick Dad!"
together we bury it
a little grave for a little bird

he dusts off his hands
anticipates the inevitable questions
no real answers . . . just it's time I guess
Will I die too someday?
a pat on the head
"You don't have to worry about dying right now."


~Bellerophon~