One of our baby budgies didn't make it. Death made a house call ...
elegy for Wobble
and the rain wept
all over the garden
parents vertical
withdrawn, silent
no more wobble
the littlest
a stilled piece of fluff
at room temperature
my children wailed
protests and questions
a caller came
an agricultural laborer
not responding
to cheat codes
not swayed
by anything
we held the funeral
under cherry trees
a blackbird spoke
of the infinite sky
from the neighbour's antenna
Poetry by Katarina Wikholm
Read 496 times
Written on 2012-06-17 at 22:21
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