Was spreading some mulch today
A bird walked up from behind a bush
A robin.
He stood. Silently. Peacefully. Waiting.
He hadn’t gotten the message perhaps
That birds were afraid of humans
He stood and watched. Watched me working.
Another load, spread still further
Was he waiting for a worm?
There were no worms I wanted to say.
The mulch was dry.
He just watched. Another load I bring
He had climbed up onto the pile.
His eyes were closed.
I need to spread it, bird, I said.
I nudged him gently with a finger
He opened his eyes. He turned his head.
He moved to the left, stumbling on a clod.
Birds don’t stumble. Birds don’t trip. This wasn’t right.
He moved a few feet off. And watched.
Later, the job done and I rested.
A light rain had fallen.
The mulch dark with new moisture.
I ventured out once again.
Beside the path close to the house I saw him
Lying lifeless on his side, his sight all gone.
I wept. What could I say?
He had come. To watch?
Perhaps to say goodbye?
Farewell. My old friend.
