Monday, May. 07, 2007 - 9:24 p.m.
When a Swallow Meets God
********************************
This fine May morning
is bright and cool
a refreshing breeze sweeps through
its nice enough to want to be outside
but its not nice enough to really hang around
I am working on a poster
and catching the music of windchimes
in breezy chaos
Jinky is hanging around across the street
at the new house under construction
walking around and around aimlessly
wondering where all his noisy labourer friends are
who were there by the dozen just yesterday
and all the days before all that
he has no concept of what Sunday is
thats it still regular life'
but we humans don't work
and pretend to be cats for 24 hrs
eat lay around and maybe play around
I imagine he is a bit bored..being a cat on a cat day
I can see his tail switching back and forth
in low grade frustration
across the street
his young healthy bright red fur sharply silloetted
against the electric green of the early spring lawns
with the occassional daffodil bobbing in the wind
then all of a sudden
T H U M P and screaming
a bird
has flown into the picture window
of the house next door
and one downed bird
is thrashing around hysterically
on the driveway
I see this
Jinky sees this
and so we both dash to the scene
but with very different agendas
he gets there first and is salivating on the helpless bird
eyes like saucers .
red fur standing on end in pure delight
by the time I get there, a few seconds later
he has the bird underfoot
and is enjoying its vain fluttery death rattle
- the sign of freshness-
but then I race up and grab the bird from him
he is not pleased with my interference
and rushes my knuckles
as i cage my fingers over the flitty spastic bird
to protect him and attempt to scoop him up to safety
This is the first time I have interveined in Jinkys choices
messed with his food
' although he interveins in my choices all the time
and messes with my food every day
I take the bird inside the house
and carfefully close the door behind me
to exclude Jinky
he is furious that I stole his windfall
and then gets shut out
some friend I am
I can see him pace the driveway from the studio window
tail thrashing in disgust at me
for being such a Liberal softie
right when he was seconds away from triumph
In my studio i gently place the spastic bird in a little box
stuffed with shredded kleenex and watch him breath
and shudder
and then die
right before my eyes.
within a few seconds
his little soul ejects from the feathery bundle
to descends elsewhere
his body is still warm but his eyes
immediatley lose the twinkle
after the moment of death
and appear to be two dull black glass beads
screwed into his head,,
It was that fast,
the exit from this realm to another
where the soul treads, the flesh dare not follow
I take the dead bird outside
and bury him in a potted peony
his death will nourish the growing plant
its just the way it is
I look and theres Jinky
watching my every move
as I push the soil over him and stand up
If cats could talk today
this one would be yelling
" YOU STUPID ASSHOLE !
THAT WAS A WASTE
OF A PERFECTLY GOOD BIRD "
and then stamp over to the porch
and lay down
his back aimed at me
I can still see Jinky from my window here
he is back across the street
lurking at the construction sight
sniffing the air for more opportunities
he has probably forgiven and forgotten
or will soon
or won't ever
we will both have to take this up discussion
with the bird someday
in paradise
