Monday, May 18, 2009

The Final Shriek of the Dying Bird

The day seemed decent for once.
The air dry,
and moving quickly along the surface of the earth,
making the leaves and the spanish moss
sway and dance in the middle of the day.
Everything was fine
until I heard some sort of a death sound
that came through my right ear.
I looked over
and squinted my eyes
because the sun was burning brightly.
I saw a bird in the mouth of a cat.
I realized then that the bird was being eaten alive.
It was making a shrieking sound
that only something purely terrified can make.
It didn’t want to die and that was obvious and audible.
It wanted nothing but for life to prevail for itself.
There were other birds too,
five of them maybe,
circling around the scene,
swooping down sometimes,
and making loud sounds that were high pitched and frequent.

None of them wanted death upon anything.
Revenge possibly,
but not death.
It was refreshing.

The sounds of the birds were immediately
burned into my brain
and I was left with nothing but intensity,
and the final shriek of the dying bird.

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