there was a bird on the ground.
i bent close, to make sure it was dead, to make sure my newgained knowledge would be useless and tremble quietly in the face of greater power.

wings were spread wide in perfect symmetry, beak pointing a perpendicular accusation, straight to god. its eyes were gone, and in the middle of its greyplumed chest was a circular wound and a gaping emptiness. i stood there, breathing, for a long, dry moment. there was no blood, no gore, no other injury save a missing heart and a round, evenedged hole. and the blind, beautiful head staring endlessly at the aching sky.