Owl Corpse

A stiff brown bundle
seemingly gift-wrapped
lies under the tree.

Disheveled feathers
atop the crown
serve as the bow.

Whatever is inside
wrapped in white tissue
is perishable.

Beneath this tree
strung with robins,
the gift lies unclaimed.

Did its recepient forget
among so many others
this last small gift?

Only the wind
like an eager child
strains at the wrapping.
________________________________________________________________________

Horsefly Hearse

You lie poised on your back,
wings folded
and legs drawn up,

perfectly positioned
on the back seat
as if in state.

Who knew this trip
for a gallon of milk
who be a procession?

It was only yesterday
the battering of your body
testified to your resolve,

ramming the windshield
until I opened the door
and you swept inside,

instantly switching modes,
charging against the glass
as if imprisoned.

A more contradictory
and chattering companion
I have never seen.

Though I threatened
to pull to the shoulder
and let you fly home,

we drove to Topeka,
me with my thoughts,
you suddenly peaceful,

distracted by dust
on the back ledge,
with occasional complaints.

Now we begin
our last journey together,
slow past the playground,

where one small girl,
sensing the occasion,
waves one final salute.