The Bird

A bird flew into my window.

You see, I had just finished cleaning them 

so it did not see the glass in front of it.

And when I went out to check on the bird

it was still.

No gasps for air.

No frantic flapping.

It simply lay there.

So I wondered what to do with it.

Do I bury it?

Do I hold a small bird funeral?

Who would do the eulogy?

I barely knew the bird.

What does one say at a funeral for birds?

And as I was preparing a tiny grave plot

underneath a pohutukawa tree

(I figured it would like that)

It got up.

It shook itself off and

flew away.

I simply stood there

wondering if it didn’t like pohutukawa after all