soft ground

yesterday
the boys and i found a dead bird
a hundred questions followed
repeating
asking
the youngest couldn’t fathom
flightless wings
or the nonexistent rhythm of the heart
but how?
but why?
will i die?

we carried her to the lemon tree
behind the garage
and buried her beneath
the citrus shade
we put her back
to the start of things
but how?
but why?
is there an answer for beginning again?

we thanked her for being a bird