Aim without Aim

The distance was thirty feet or so

to the targets lined in a row.

Taking aim with my air rifle

a cardinal landed on the barbed wire fence

directly behind the tin targets.

Raising my barrel ever so slightly

the feathered target fell within my sights.

Letting out a breath,

I gently squeezed the trigger...

Red dropped like a rock.

He was dead before he hit the ground.

I ran toward the motionless little body

lying in the grass.

On my hands was the red of Red.

I dropped to my knees.

My tears fell upon its lifeless form

but no amount of sorrow

would restore the life

I so needlessly and foolishly took from it.

I thought my secret was safely buried

back on the farm so long ago.

But every once in a while

I am reminded of the memory of Red

by the frequenting of its own kind

at my backyard feeder.

If the scarlet visitors only knew

what I had done to one of their own,

would they still take my oblation of seed

or take to flight out of fear

that I might aim without aim...

one seed for food or

one seed to fear?