Early in the Morning

Early in the morning,
Suddenly, without warning,
I found a gift at my feet
Where my paper awaits on the street:

Some small bird,
Of whose name I had never heard,
Was crimson and twisted,
Broken and blistered,
Stiff against my news.
Awkwardly, I stared toward my shoes

Than walked into the house.
My cat had grown tired of its squeaky mouse
And decided bigger game was key.
But I didn’t mind, as the gift was for me.

I just hosed off the mess
Of fetid feathers and torn flesh
And made sure to pet Moe a little more,
To show her that I was not sore.