I walk out to my driveway
on a routine chore,

find to my amazement
a glorious, noble raptor.

I decide it has just died.
It is perfect.

I am stunned by its dark head,
striped gray and black feathers,
white breast, and yellow legs.

Even in death it looks
powerful, intelligent, alert.

As a city girl, it's hard to
organize a funeral for such
a magnificent creature, alone.

I gently place it in a wooded area
from my shovel, pick up one
mesmerizing tail feather.

I have mixed emotions:
it is scary and intense.

The universe chose me
to be with this bird
during its journey
to the spirit world,

where it can again soar free. 

About the Author: Elsa Lichman, from Massachusetts, is a contributor to the journal as well a a columnist for the Waltham News Tribune and the Natural Living Journal. She is a retired social worker who has turned to the arts in retirement and during the covid era: writing, singing, and drawing, as well as utilizing meditation, to gain perspective and heal.
Aug 18th 2020 Elsa Lichman

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