In the comments section for this post, tell us what bird you would be…

A friend asked what kind of bird I would be after reading my poem on death in the post “As I see it.” I’ve thought about that, and would probably be an eagle (they fly the highest) or a wild goose:

Wild Geese

You do not have to be good.
You do not have to walk on your knees
for a hundred miles through the desert repenting.
You only have to let the soft animal of your body
love what it loves.
Tell me about despair, yours, and I will tell you mine.
Meanwhile the world goes on.
Meanwhile the sun and the clear pebbles of the rain
are moving across the landscapes,
over the prairies and the deep trees,
the mountains and the rivers.
Meanwhile the wild geese, high in the clean blue air,
are heading home again.
Whoever you are, no matter how lonely,
the world offers itself to your imagination,
calls to you like the wild geese, harsh and exciting -
over and over announcing your place
in the family of things.

Mary Oliver (A link to a lovely page with the poem)

…Or maybe just a sparrow. They are the hardiest.