It was the cry of angry despair that made me turn as the car sped away.
A tiny sparrow wheeled upwards from the road, fighting to control its flight,
Falling into the air in panic, screaming out its payload of shock and anger.
A second tiny bird was left alone, pinned to the ground by its own blood,
Feathers fluttering gently in the wind
Its heart still.
Today as I walked past the spot the road was silent and empty.
The corpse had gone, carried off in triumph by a midnight fox,
Snapped up to satisfy a moments hunger, a small life unconsidered, forgotten,
But the early morning sun had sent leaf shadows out to dance in the road,
The swallows were swooping low over the grass in tribute
And its companion was singing.