Last Night I Heard a Squawk

 

Last night I heard a squawk of death

From the tree outside my window

And I thought -

A pigeon in the fox's jaws.

But … can a fox reach a roosting pigeon?

Not likely.

Was the pigeon low in the shrubbery?

Not likely.

Must have been an owl.

A pigeon in an owl's claws

Gagging for life.

But … the screams were strangled abruptly.

An owl would have carried it off

With its death throes fading gently

Over the quiet streets.

A feral cat … maybe it was a feral cat.

A clever climber.

Poor pigeon.

Asleep in birdie dreams one minute

And meat the next.

Maybe it wasn't a pigeon.

Maybe it was the young magpie that

Lost its tail feathers in a fight

And can't fly

Not even into the lowest branches.

Maybe that's what the  noise was.

Whatever it was - it's done.

It's gone.  I can do nothing.

Should I feel a little sad?

I don't see why.

What has a bird's death to do with me?

I didn't make the strike.

But … the sound echoes and re-echoes in my head.

What would a child sound like  -

Attacked to kill?

 

It's hard to be human.                                       

Cynthia Buell Thomas