The Thrush

from by Meadownoise

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Just after seven this morning I saw a robin die.
There was a deep and sudden thud from the window behind my head.
It was a familiar sound, but only after the adrenaline had faded.

On its stomach, the bird breathed heavily.
Then, very slowly, it eased its head down, down, down,
sinking its beak between the deck boards, tail in the air.
It might have been a pregnant one, too fat to steer.
I know, at least, it was a big female, too fat to steer.

The heavy breathing stopped.
She sprang to her feet to face me in the window.
Staring, confused, as if pissed at me for the technology,
at herself for the error, or maybe at the one who made her pregnant.

This was a dark morning, one degree below freezing,
belly full of birds all about to die.
I came back later and she was gone.


from Dark Digest, released August 30, 2014




Meadownoise Nashville, Tennessee

Always have a rigid paint scraper handy.

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