One childhood memory,
is about a yellow canary,
fluttering around the duck pond.

Door to door, we wandered on,
to reunite the owner’s bond,
But no one claimed the little bird.

From the bushes, we heard
quick, a flash of fur,
A burst of wings before a word—

Mom: “Well, never mind.”

We left the stranger standing there,
as the cat trots off with its kill.
I cried at nature’s crime.