Fresh-dug soil oozes tears and worms that the blackbird, dressed for the occasion, is too polite to eat.
I caress your soft fur for the last time. This life's paws are still; your soul ran off with a surprised yelp, as though you hadn't expected the glory of Beyond. And while I rest you in the earth you loved to dig, the heavens growl and rumble as you romp around with friends you haven't seen for years.
There's a mound in my back garden.
The blackbird pays melodious respects.