I was walking through a field one day
sometime late in may
i saw a bird of bones without yield there it lay
i reflected upon another day
before the bird became this way
i imagined it flying about picking up pieces of hay
i pictured it with other birds at play
what sort of bird i couldnt say
perhaps a robin or maybe a blue jay
possibly even a gull from down at the bay
could of been a hawks prey
whatever it was it was laying on a stone colored grey
a bird of bones where it will stay
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
awww sad: ( but good description micron