Death, the Kingbird, and I

Death rapped on our window at dawn

so I leapt from bed and out the door

to shoo it away.

But there, below the window,

in the morning shade of the Mulberry tree

a Western Kingbird lay.

Damn it, I cried aloud to death,

I’ve tried to keep you at bay.

How many window decals do I need

to keep them all away?

You silly thing, I said to the bird,

and scooped to pick her up.

Stunned and afraid

she fluttered her wings,

flipping helplessly in the dust.

With soothing words, i tried again.

cupping hands around my little friend.

Who showed little life.

Who looked near the end.

But I was not interested in welcoming death,

so finding a box and trying my best,

I set the bird down in a soft, cotton nest.

A gentle stroke upon her head

and down her narrow bill.

Her wide, black eyes, now closed.

Her gray and yellow feathers, still.

Death, I see, is stopping by.

So I leave the Kingbird,

– and this mourning scene –

to have a good, long cry.

For the bird,

For the world.

For me.

For death hovers over this house.

It simply can’t be helped

with a 90 year old mother about.

Although uninvited, it came for a visit.

Not much to be done

except to face it.

I returned to the box

with the poor, little bird.

And, once again, I cursed aloud.

Reaching down for one final stroke,

suddenly the Kingbird woke,

and flew in a flash

to a neighboring tree,

leaving me

and death

behind today.

Author: Anne Celano Frohna

I am a writer, a mother of two girls, Eva (22) and Sophia (20) and wife to one husband, Kurt. I was mostly a professional writer and editor for 25 years for graphic arts and advertising, for publishers of newspapers, magazines, books, etc.,. Now, I have this blog where I post my creative non-fiction, short stories, a couple of illustrated children's stories and a comedy I wrote about two years I spent teaching English in rural Japan (NOT a story for a child.). I also have a shop on Etsy called ChannelingNonna where I’m selling the many vintage treasures I’ve collected over the years and continue to hunt down at thrift stores and yard sales.

One thought on “Death, the Kingbird, and I”

  1. Sending lots of love to your Mom, and hope she remembers the fun we had at Knollwood, and especially in England during the Ryder Cup, Lord knows how many years ago…

    Liked by 1 person

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