The Burial of The Blue Jay

Early this morning, a Blue Jay, dead, in the backyard, under the hemlock, near the garden, I go out, I bend down, shovel in hand, bury the bird, where she lay, blue, how deeply the cry can move me, yesterday, I witnessed her struggle, prayed for her, as she sat clutching the branch, silent, light of sunset, then darkness, I do not know, nor understand, when she fell, morning found her on the grass, rigid, puffed like a pillow, blue, later, when she is buried, the birds, the cardinals, the sparrows, the flicker and the woodpecker, return to the yard, and I say to Susan, I wonder if they knew.

In remembrance, some photos of mine of Blue Jays in our backyard:

Have you ever buried a bird?