the morning after i learned
my mother was dying
i saw a black-headed junco out back
he feasted on seeds the fat squirrel spilled
from the feeder i hung in spring
living in autumn sunlight
he hopped among the dandelions
(little junco
unhurried     unafraid)

i wondered     did he have a family
(little bird)
a round brown-feathered mate
and would sweet things always ache
in the world to come