Volume 12, 2012

A Certain Solace

Bruce Bennett

He sang more sweetly when his mate
died. Well, that’s the singer’s fate:
absence and mourning. We relate,

But can do nothing. Some have found
a certain solace in the sound.
We lay him gently in the ground,

A tuft of feathers, silent, still.
The busy birds with mates now fill
his space, as something always will.

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