In the last two weeks, I’ve buried three wild birds- a robin, a pine siskin, and a hummingbird- such a tiny, little body. The last two were from my cat which makes it even worse.
Two dear friends were also lain to rest from this life. One passed away unexpectedly in his sleep. The other reached the end of an eight-year struggle with ovarian cancer.
The events in Ukraine disturb me daily. The weather has been unusually cold and wet on top of such sorrow.
I’m hanging out with my cats more than usual. Their furry presence is soothing. Then I find peace in my new native plant garden, every day a surprise, a new leaf, a blossom emerging, life announcing its presence in a tenuous world
The Biology of Loss She is perfect. rufus breast her back and wings cloaked with feathers of burnt umber She leaves a fledgling that hops about her still body I gather it up and place it under a dense shrub knowing its chances are slim to none Was it my cat? There are no signs He too is perfect. his sleek black and white form graceful as a panther about the yard Two vultures circle overhead also graceful They descend on the body of a dead raccoon shoved to the roadside by my neighbor’s fence then commence to tear into its bloated form that wears an open-mouthed grimace I view this from my kitchen window pick up my cat and hold him close shut my eyes and allow his purr to seep into my troubled places I know that beneath the ground unseen the worms and microbes celebrate their new bounty their feast ultimately turning to flowers still, I ache for all that has been lost.
images by the author