This poem is written from the perspective of my daughter, Laura (then 9), who lost her special duck Wingers to marauding dogs. Other beloved creatures succumbed, like her kitten, Diamond. Laura and I somberly buried each in the garden, resting them on beds of green grass, and covering them with loosely sprinkled rose petals. Each funeral was tender, both sad and sweet.
SPRINKLED WITH ROSE PETALS
Wingers was my special duck.
I raised her from a day-old chick.
But she died when the neighbor’s dogs roved over
In the middle of the night.
Diamond was my precious kitten.
I watched her being born.
I stroked her fur when she lay sick.
I gently stroked her fur.
I found a yellow-breasted song bird:
Her feathers scattered on the grass;
Her wings stretched out;
Her beak upturned, eyes staring at the sky.
I laid them all in garden graves,
On beds of soft, cool grass,
Wrapped in soft, white cloth.
I sprinkled them with rose petals,
Red and pink and white.