This December’s bird count
includes individuals mislaid
or forgotten by fall’s migration.
One rears a late hatch
a second clings to a mate
of another species, a third
sings so long it misreads
leaf-fall for the rite of spring.
These poor few will quake
& slump & die over winter.
They will make up no part of
spring’s count. No one
save a stray god will mark
their loss, bless their bones.
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