the 7 year pheasant

once, a pheasant died

on the road near my home.

i retrieved him.

I blessed his small soul.

and i plucked him.

because i am that kind of girl.

i carried his remains to the woods

 and i laid him down to feed the foxes.

i put his glorious feathers,

reverently,

in a gold-covered box. 

i kept that box for 7 years.

i never opened it.

until 3 days ago,

 when i lifted the lid.

 i gasped at the softness.

 i cried at the beauty.

and i remembered what kind of girl i am.