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