Birds talked like birds

The bluetit
lands on my forearm
looks into my eyes
and bends its head
in deep regret

We both know
it is the last time
a bluetit sits
on a forearm
I bend my head
and cry a tear
in deep shame

While the bird
slowly closes its eyes
we both bend our heads
The bluetit,
because it dies
and I,
because from now on
I will live
in a world
without bluetits

 

Piet B, 03-02-2019