***

[chus]

I thought that the bird was dead.
So I gathered the belongings
into a small box.
A bell made of silver.
A silly and shiny mirror
in a blue plastic frame.
And two small bird feeders
that used to be filled
with millet and water.
Came into the garden
to bury it there.
Where the earth is much darker
than a night in the fall.

But right in that moment when
the doors of the earth had closed
above the soft little body,
I heard a familiar voice.
It came to me from above
chiming in ultramarine
like that bell of silver,
singing to me in joy
from the utmost top of the sky
that sometimes the winds of spring
are stronger than death can be.

©