Eulogy on the Last Day

It is not the deer I pass nightly
on my dark way home from town
or the pink possum
or a quick brown fox.
Not the toad hopping
across my blackened path,
nor skittering mouse or mole
blinded by headlights
that was my victim.

Bright red-breasted boy,
you stood in my way,
in full sun this morning,
and I waited for you
to take the customary
last minute flight out from under
my speeding wheels,

but you did not.

Instead you stood Samurai
looking me full in the face
and let me take you
unafraid from this day
and all the rest of the days,

feathers flying away from you,
an offering to the heavens
on your wake.