By the Wind Grieved

In one of my many roadside scavenging trips, I encountered a decomposing deer in the grassy median that had been killed by a passing vehicle (an all-too-common occurrence). What struck me about this particular creature was how it was literally returning to the earth, the tawny color of the dry grass and the remaining parts of the deer – mostly its head and legs – being almost indistinguishable. With this experience in mind, I have begun to explore how to substantiate and commemorate the fleeting existences of these birds I have found. As Thomas Wolfe so eloquently put it in Look Homeward, Angel,

Remembering speechlessly we seek the great forgotten language, the lost lane-end into heaven, a stone, a leaf, an unfound door. Where? When?

O lost, and by the wind grieved, ghost, come back again.