I could hear the wind rustling in the corn,
a soft undercurrent to the dawn,
the day I went away.
The sun broke through the clouds
with just a hint of mischief
as I tried to peek over the windowsill
to see what bird was singing
so insistently, so confidently.
But all I saw was a flutter of wings,
a breeze caressing feathers into flight,
and a branch bending back into place.
This was written as part of National Poetry Writing Month 2021, sparked by the NaPoWriMo prompt for April 8 to write a poem structured as a monologue by a dead person; I chose to write of the poet Mildred Raynolds Trivers‘ last moments.