Fallen Bird

A wing, a bundle of feathers falling fast
tumbling to the ground, just glimpsed
the sudden plummet and abrupt strike.

I'd seen it before, once or twice. Once or twice,
a bird falling inexplicably to its end,
always in the autumn, alway in crisp cold.

Behind me making preparations, then going
out the back to the car, as before, 
leaving, going out, as before, my family.

Goodbye, I say, and take care, I say, and they
say goodbye. And I don't tell them of the
fallen bird I've seen again, as before.

                September 16, 2000 - r.o.