A Blackbird Burial

I found you on the pavement
Hot, dry and ousted
Amongst the litter
Carefully I lifted you
A watery, wormy, fishy bread mix
You got your eyes open,
blackbird
But nature made you rigor
anyway
Seated on your glove
Fingers softly gathered
Under the forsythia
From which your parents flew
To and fro
Nurturing your bigger siblings

You had a burial
In a Val halle style
Buried with a dinner
You'd never eat
On the spot you died
I was the grave digger
and the reverand
A trowel for a shovel.
If only we were all afforded
the same.