A radiant white goddess
limped onto our back lawn
reflecting bright moonbeams
the stuff of storybook dreams.

I gently picked her up
my two hands shielding her
like a communion cup.

The vets undertook her care
pronounced her a pure white dove
later phoned declared her dead
a broken leg.

What humans call a humane killing.
It eases our pain.
What happens when you **** a goddess?