Waiting for Death
She perches in a crook of the mesquite tree with the gnarled bark surrounding her. A brilliant flash of green with a rosy face. There is an aura about her, eyes once alert to every move now glazed, beseeching. A black crow sits above her, head cocked watching with one golden eye. Waiting.
I pray that death takes her soon for I don’t want her to suffer. All the flock has left her here, do birds sense when a life may soon be over? Is this the reason for their desertion?
It’s said we come into the world alone, we go out alone. But she is not alone for I, the silent observer, the seer of death so many times, am here. The reaper is drawing nigh. I weep and pray for her spirit to greet the heavenly sky where forever she will soar on the perfumed summer wind.
life ebbing with setting sun
©2018 Linda Lee Lyberg
Author’s Note: In the room where I write, there is a window that looks out on a Mesquite tree. This is the second lovebird that has come to this particular spot in the tree to die. I believe they feel safe and can go in peace.