Sunshine died
on Friday.
My son discovered him,
stiff on the bottom of his cage
with tiny feet curling skyward.
A low sun
offered us
the last shards of daylight
as my son placed his Sunshine
in a hole and covered him with soil.
That night I
watched
a glorious moon rise
into a star pricked heaven—
a reflection of sunshine
that glistened in my child's eyes
as a mirror in a mirror—
while the chill of the earth
crept into the bones of my feet.