Submitted to Leo’s Z to A Challenge: http://leonnyes.wordpress.com/
M is for Mortality
A dead quail lay on the path,
grasping the last touch of life,
eyelids sealing off earth’s beauty forever.
Layers of gold feathers
zigzagged its empty breast.
Clods of earth soiled
the handiwork of some obscure Artisan.
I knelt to honor
nature’s defiled chalice,
scooped the chilled stiff form into a plastic bag.
It landed with a thud in the empty garbage can.
This poem was originally published in Twenty-Three Magazine, 2006