I watched the light leave something’s eyes today. The life. All of it’s self all gasping out. A dove. A dove and a hawk. It hit the window with a loud loud sound, and I never quite believed, because I’d never myself seen that birds fly right into glass. But there it was, all twisted neck, all bleeding maw. And the hawk alighting on the table. My father chased it off, not knowing the state of the dove, hoping still to help. But it was done, with force and glass and bird bones are filled with air you know, light enough to fly. So he and I, my father and I stood to watch the puddle of red grow. To watch the full dark eyes blink and blink and shut. When it was done we shut the door, both of us knowing the other knew we had witnessed something raw and true. So we all sat, sharing soft words all mentally calling the hawk back. When I looked outside again it was a red splash on the patio and nothing more. I took the hose to it and it may as well have never been.


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