You stumbled around hurt. I watched you tenderly. Eventually, it was the back of a shovel. Your neck was broken. What was I to do, pop pocorn and watch you die slowly? Bang! All over, nighty night.
The hole was deep for such a small creature. But, deep holes are more fitting for reverence than shallow graves. Mr. Blue Jay, I miss your squeaks and flutters. You were beautiful, but damn, you don't get the concept of glass! Stupid bird.
I left a cairn to mark your resting spot as a gesture of rememberance. Please don't give me avian flu. The shovel was for your own good. *Aaaaaaaaaaachooooooooooooo!* Shit!
4 years ago