Emptying a tub that I found
full, florid fetid water
topped by monsoon storms
old muddy chemically complex stench emptied
small bucket to big bucket during fifth trip forth
then back a dead sparrow
was scooped out, oh dear
heart rotting, guts streaming.
I put it in a good place, asked for a blessing. How long
a life? Why in the stink of the water, unknown.
Some of it splashed in my face. Tangible
metaphor. How many punches do I need before
I pick up the pen, to pick a little, talk a little. Bless you
bird, dear sparrow.
maybestage 
Kim you are so good at recognizng, then capturing, intense moments of connectedness among us large and small, alive and dead, with cheeks and beaks. I want to think its spirit knew this and splashed in gratitude, baptising you both. XO, True
Thanks, and love, to you, True. The spirit, maybe so, right, maybe so.
I found a soaked hummingbird yesterday in a puddle, splayed out in a way that made wings, tail, feathers look like a human hand. Five. It said. All phosphorescence had turned to brown. It was still. Beautiful.