the pheasant

though its only may
the cowparsley is already head high
so yesterday i set out to scythe the weeds
to make way for the garden
i bent my back into the work
curling the long knife along the ground
like an snickering engine

then beyond the blade
i saw what appeared to be a carcass
feathered and still
no
upright
alive
eyes open
a pheasant
a hen
sitting on her eggs

she would not move all evening
flies walked along her body
an ant crawled by her eye
she sat and warmed her clutch

four inches more the blade
and we'd be eating fowl tonight

i piled the weeds
to recreate her shelter
and ponder upon sacrifice and service