rough morning

We started our day with a funeral.  It was the backyard variety, a burial for Evenstar, one of the newer members of our chicken flock.  Nonetheless, death is still shockingly final.  We found her sick last night, a shadow on the lawn.  I was skittish and a bit freaked out about picking up her hunched form in the near darkness.  I think I was afraid of finding gruesome damage.  My 10 year old, in her gentle certain manner, reached for her unhesitatingly.  She slowly stretched each wing to check for injury, felt Evenstar’s belly, and then carried her to the house, all the while murmuring reassurances to the bird.  I stood there in the damp grass for just a moment, awed by my daughter’s calm compassion.