verona stellet
verona stellet


Flying into the open sky,
not recognizing the clouds as mere reflections
on the glass pane -a mirage.
The thrush finds itself stunned, shocked on the hard ground,
not comprehending the sudden obstacle.
The speckled breast rises and falls in quick succession
I watch and hope, but keep my distance -
not wanting to add to the fragile bird's distress.
I look into its black, beady eyes, wait and watch,
watch out for the cat, to give it every chance
Its eyes close, I watch, it dies. I feel sadness.
The remains I leave under trees, exposed to the elements.
Very soon, the plump body is stripped down to feathers, light bones
and a brittle skull, with the beak attached to tiny hinges,
which I retrieve, clean and keep.
It assumes a new meaning for me.
A symbol of loss,
epitomizing the transient nature of life.

In memory of Bob