Death Of An Innocent Poem by Paul Larmour

Up, up you pop over the hedge
Racing the car, dipping and swerving
With a furious beating of wings
You take the lead
Many horse power beaten by one little bird
Suddenly you dive for the further hedge
Across my path
To late to brake
In the turbulence you are caught and tumble
Across my bonnet
And freefall to the verge
I see you lying there silent
Broken-bodied, still
Belly down you're little head twisted to one side
Staring eyes turn to glass
And through that minds window
I see a glow, a memory
Like a silent film flicking on white canvas
Sitting waiting on a clutch of eggs
Waiting for her mate
The wind rising her feather
Calling out over the heather


My mate, my love where are you
The sun sinks slowly and you're not here
The night crowds in and you're not here
My hunger bites and you're not here
My love, my love where are you

Hush! a whistle a far of cry
Off echoing cliffs it sounds
But no mournful cry, not a welcoming whistle
The sun dips under the cliff edge
And darkness stalks from the east
And with it comes tumbling clouds
It's late. it's late and you're not here

Where are you, my love, my mate
It's getting dark and you are late
My hunger grows and still i wait
My love, my love what is your fate


Please return to our nest in the heather
Where under wing we conquer the weather
I need the feel of your fine feather
The warmth of your body when we are together

I cry, i cry but i can't be heard
I listen, i listen but can't hear a word
From my mate to whom i'm paired
Not a cheep or a call from my fellow bird

The film fades to sporadic flashes and is gone
Carefully lifting your lifeless body
I place you beneath the hawthorn hedge
A place of peace a place of protection
Where you flew the summers long
But now your song is sung, your flight is flown
And silent vigil the hawthorn keeps
Return to nature little one
For whence the human race has run
And maybe some day return