I asked the robin who
crumpled orange and olive-brown
lay motionless
in my path today

no answer

I asked the mockingbird
whose repeating hymn
attended my steps

no answer

I asked the gull
swooping overhead
slicing the ashen sky

no answer

Seeing it coming
do birds rush headlong
and proud
to meet it?

do they drop
from the heavens
in mid-flight
swirling in a ballet
like a golden autumn leaf?

do they stop
mid-song
as melody echoes
in their throat?

having achieved
their ultimate note
their aria bursting
through the heights
making the clouds shiver

do they quietly close
their tiny eyes of onyx
to dream an eternal dream of song
an infinite fantasy of flight?

I wonder...

how do birds die?