Vivid Red

I stepped outside for a quick smoke and was almost clipped by pigeon in the back of the head. Startled I noticed as it passed that it was holding a smaller bird. As the pigeon cut through the branches of the tree it released its smaller counterpart, as it tumbled through the branches I approached to meet it on the ground below. I looked down to see the little bird convulsing, bright, almost unreal blood dripping from its beak. Its black eyes open wide with panic, after a quick assessment I realized nothing could be done to restore my friend to health. I made a dash to the shed, returning with the sharpest garden spade I could find, placed it to the birds neck and with every ounce of my combined weight and strength drove the shovel downward.
Without much movement or sound the head was seperated from the body. I considered leaving my friend where it was, in the hope that the bird that had it before would return and eat it, but decided that leaving a decapitated bird so close to the road would only cause dismay for those who didn't know the little birds story.
I scooped up the body and brought it into the backyard and buried it under a few inches of gorgeous topsoil, hoping that the little birds death had not been in vain. I hope to see a flower bloom on that very spot. I hope to see life spring forth from that exact location. I hope the little bird found understanding in its final moments.

Return to the earth my friend, still warm, it took only seconds.

The beauty of your feathers will haunt me. I can only pretend to understand this cycle.

I am afraid.