Bird Bones

Back against the yellow grass,

glare against my eye.

Handfuls of small bones,

Dry, cracked, small bones.

Sticky, sweaty shoulder blade

Pressed into leather seat.

Examining the small bones,

Dry, cracked, small bones.

Rugged carpet floor

aggravates day-old wound.

Distracted by these small bones,

Dry, cracked, small bones.

He said, “look at that bird,

one day, you too, will fly.”

But when a tree limb caught its small wing,

that bird fell down and died.