Early Summer

Early summer occurs in a calamity of falling young petals, birds, the bright souls of birds.

A small dead bird is at my feet, tree looms over this soul-ossuary dignifying the small body with her dark needles, bird-map-lost Obliterate—

A small mourning shadow passes over grass, just long enough to hide the living bird, shadow moves against it tipping it to a tremble, as if it were fly-flicked, wing-tipped.

it is dawn, the nodding daisies mourn. bent arc of its chest, a birdcage laid bare on dew drenched grass. one velvet tipped glove is open, supplicant on the altar of the rising sun.