Down the steps against he wall
A mass of glory all outspread,
White, white wing and coal black head.
Body askew, already dead.
I stooped in wonder, or, was it dread,
how could it be; felled from the sky
This mighty bird, that should be flying
His glorious wheeling air ballet.

Gently, though he could not feel,
I took up the bird it's wings outspread,
I felt I couldn't leave it there,
I must for pities sake remove
Him to a safer spot.
Still was I wondering how
He came there from his element air.

I walked him solemnly up the hill
folded large white wings all tidily,
Laid him gently on the earth
neath a giant old oak tree,
Covered him with autumn leaves,
So no one could see him sleeping there,
Nor disturb his reveries.

Written 1994

by Daphne Grant

Comments (2)

The loving care displayed here is amazing, you are a wonderful, thoughtful individual, I love your poetry.--Melvina-
A wonderful display of tenderness... a pleasure to read. Well done, Daphne. Brian