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Read more poems by Ron Rash: Ron Rash Poems at Poetry X.

Bed-sick she heard the bird's call
fall soft as a pall that night
quilts tightened around her throat,
her grey eyes narrowed, their light
gone as she saw what she'd heard
waiting for her in the tree
cut down at daybreak by kin
to make the coffin, bury
that perch around her so death
might find one less place to rest. 

Added: 6 Oct 2002 | Last Read: 11 Feb 2012 10:14 PM | Viewed: 2638 times

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