Burial of the Heron

I saw the lifeless body of a Great Blue Heron floating in the stream. 

I wasn’t sure what to do.  Birds die.  They become a part of the food cycle.  But this one was right along a well traveled path.  In fact, I have plans to lead a group hike here next week. 

I opted to provide the bird with a proper burial.  I walked into the woods with good gloves and a sturdy shovel.  When I returned, his wings had been torn from his body.  The head was wedged tightly beneath some stones.  Dislodging his beak was a gruesome task.  His neck was so delicate, wet, and smooth.  

I dug a grave off of the path, by a mossy stone.  The soil was dark, and rich.  I lined the hole with ferns and fall leaves.  I gently placed the heron’s lifeless body within the earth and composed a eulogy. 

Feathers – cloudy grey, fringed with rust
Once held the breath of the world
And lifted you towards the skies

There is an empty beauty
Majesty exists with the spark of life
Still, this body once held a soul that soared.
Though lank and limp, it is still beautiful.
Your wings have been torn from your spine.
Insects feast on the flesh that once quivered by the waterways, awaiting shimmering fish
Sunlight still dances off your feathers
A witch hazel leaf flutters down to cover your sightless eye.
But this is not you,
May you take flight on the wings of your soul.