They mourn and circle with respect. Surround
a fellow creature with a walk of love
until the fading light’s no longer found.
Oh, whisper, he is gone someplace above.
They wear dark suits to issue in that day,
funereal. They mutter in the gloom;
their sorrowed souls form, looking for a way
to understand why life is ended soon.
Now, sad they gather round. Their friend is gone
“Oh, never come again”, companions weep.
“Protect him since he’ll never see the sun.
Oh, circle him with love before he sleeps!”
All wing`ed creatures know when life has flown.
A kindred circle closes on their own.