Nirvana

I remember the story of the mother

who had to give up her newborn --

how, years later,

she could still feel the impression

of his tiny head below her shoulder.

Yesterday, a bird stood on the walkway

as though transfixed, amused.

You and I worked the yard for hours,

its whole area, perimeter.

When done, you said, look,

there's a bird just standing there.

I recognized him.

You dug up worms but

his head was cocked to one side.

The wide open beak begged

but couldn't eat.

We saw the gruesome injury

and headed to wildlife rescue

where they said there was no hope.

I wished I had brought him back

to launch home to heaven, from the

color and loam of my own front yard

where he'd always be, like a sentry,

snug in the nirvana of dark earth,

among yellow flowers bright as suns

that once liit his flight.

C Julie K. Shavin 2009