Deserted Bird Poem by Beverley Katherine

shrunken in the wing,
the feathers clutched so tightly
grasping the tangled skin
with elegant fingers
held dangling, resting upon the surface
in the iron-clad attempt at a grip of death.

how strongly held the broken skin
to the shrunken marrow, bleached
from sunlight and rain.

the sparrow's song is never heard anymore.
it was replaced by a dirge
concentration on the rustling of whisper-thin feathers
in a calm wind.