In the Arms of Mother



 A late fall morning
I looked outside,
birds were dying,
some lying in my grass
others in and near
the shallows.


Walked out
to touch, to see
if I was dreaming,
two or three
barely breathing.
Sparrow landed on
my head.


Took a deep breath,
went back
to the house,
to my room,
threw Pendleton
over top of my body.
Tried to sleep
deep as
those dead.



This poem is about: 
My community
Our world


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