We were excited to meet you,
To know by your speckled breast you had recently fledged,
To watch your daddy feed you and teach you to fend for yourself,
To see your first attempts at perching on the worm feeder alone.
You were brave and showed new independence each day.
You can't know what joy you brought us, or what sorrow,
when we found you on the pavement beneath the feeder,
Perhaps a victim of a hawk or the neighbor's cat.
If it had to be, I hope your demise was swift,
That you didn't feel fear or pain.
I bury you in the future strawberry bed, twelve inches deep,
Remembering Nick's words for the cardinal he once buried.
"Here lies a good soldier."
How did he know what to say at age six?
I don't know what to say today.
What is there to say about burying a baby bluebird?
Thank you for nourishing our strawberries?
It doesn't seem like enough.
Twelve times Nick's age, and not half as profound.
But just as sad.
~dkm
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