Sorry Dead Bird

I’m so sorry dead bird on my back porch.
I don’t know how you died or why
but I’m sorry all the same.

I’m sorry that I had to clean up

our little, light weight corpse in a couple
of plastic bags and throw you into the
dumpster by the alley.

I’m sorry you were alone when you

went to that great soaring endless sky,
or whatever bird heaven is. I imagine it’s
all bird baths, sunny skies, bird seed and a
giant shrine to Archaeopteryx.

I’m sorry that I was the only one to

notice you, crumpled at the bottom of
the mid-level stairs. I was just taking
my laundry downstairs to the washers when
I happened upon you.

I’m sorry that I couldn’t provide you the

dignity you might have deserved in death.
I can only imagine your high flying life,
above us all, drifting effortlessly on breezes.

I’m sorry that seeing your little bird body

made me so sad. I’m sorry that you reminded
me of the briefness of things and how very late
the hour is.

I’m sorry I had to pick you up, feel your

weightlessness in my hand, wonder if I
was doing the right thing, but knowing
it was. I’m sorry dead bird, that I am the
only bearer of your memory.