yesterday, as we walked back from the shop
we took a new path
one we never usually take
suddenly, there at my feet
was an owl
face down
motionless
wings spread wide and proud
he hadn't died from attack
or something brutal
it seemed
he had simply died
and there he was before me, in all his glory
i am a big believer in symbolism
things turning up
to try and show you something
i pondered this owl
thought about him all day
went back to the patch of pavement where he lay several times
wondering if someone else had moved him
but there he lay
beautiful and still
i am not known for my strength with 'these types of things'
but i knew that i had to bury him
something special for a special animal
i gently picked his unscathed body
he was surprisingly light and warm
wrapped him in red velvet
and buried him in a beautiful patch of the garden
mr owl - lovely you
i found this site,
which talks about the spirit of the
tawny frogmouth
i feel so touched to have had this experience
one i would usually have run from
ox
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