The moon in small doses

For those who have lost a loved one.

Strong is the bird on the wire
Pointed shards of sunlight pierce
Yet wings do not ruffle...he is quiet
So little this creature...
A left over product of creation's new earth

He does not sing his usual song of gladness
But watches below for signs of change
He waits for starlight, not too bright
Though harrowing be the lack of heat
On bodies small...
Will he fall before night does?

Will the moon soothe in small doses?
Will the street lamp suffice if it does not?
Will the cold air induce a shiver?
Even now he looks for cover...

Where is my mate, my beloved mate
He lingers on thoughts of death awhile
And remembers the horror of loss
As through eyes near closed
He is still mindful of shared space

On the wire...

Strong is the bird on the wire
Pointed shards of sunlight pierce
Yet wings do not ruffle...he is quiet
So little this creature...

A left over product of creation's new earth

So strong is the bird on a wire