Gentle death,
You startled me in the garden yesterday.
You small, soft creature, who was of late a pest we wished to be rid of, lying so peaceful and calm.
Successful, I now grieve.
I looked for a moment, and then could look no more and turned away.
All night I knew you were there and knew I had to do something respectful.
In the morning I shouldered my courage, and took a sturdy plastic bag out to the garden.
With trepidation, I put the bag around my hand and reached down.
My fingers curled slowly around the soft, supple handful and lifted it from the ground.
I pulled the bag around it and tied it shut.
Nature had started doing its thing underneath.
There were maggots wiggling and a tiny unpleasant whiff.
I set you gently in the garbage bin.
I went inside and cried as I had not cried since my father died.
9/15/2026
Adrian Dee, flutist, composer 