Natural Selection Poem by Clive Culverhouse

Gravely digging the grave digger digs
holes for souls; waste pits plotted
earth soils clogging
Collections of bones for storage and mind
Disposal in disguise
Many a form, Goldfinch alike, are left
in place of death; laying spent, shrivelled
dishevelled, colours still abright
I wasn't going to dig a hole so I left it
where it lay; no-one will dig for its soul
No grave digger digs such a small pit
No respect, no clogging, no digging
Instead the finches are left
along with the Linnet, the Thrush, the Owl
and the Crow; destined to be sucked back
into nature's cauldron
to go wherever birds go