Dear Blue Jay,
There is a chattering from above in the stillness of the snow.
I am reminded of a warm day spent in the cool space of a library. I was sketching a Blue Jay skin. Unlike these Steller's Jay, stuffed full of life from their tail feathers to the peaks on their heads, this one was only stuffed with cotton. Gently, I lifted it in both hands and was struck by the lightness of death, like the weight of her hand in mine at the end (light as a feather, stiff as a board). Yet, in its coloured feathers remained a vibrant reminder of life; a blue as bright as the sky it once flew through.
