Peggy's Alright...The Baby's Dead.

Weeding a garden,
I pulled at a clump
of dirt and found
in my hand the remains
of a baby bird.

I paused, and lay the bird
out in my palm. Bits of mud
clung to the baby's feathers,
talons curled underneath its
frail body as its head fell
limp between my fingers.

I mourned the bird's short life
for a moment, then glanced
to each side, and when no one
was looking and against orders,
I returned the broken body to
the ground, covering it with
a patch of sod, ensuring it would
no longer be disturbed.