My cockatiel sees a Rainbow Bridge while he flies in a clear sky.
He notices his feather colors: light grey, dark grey, orange, yellow, and white.
As he flies over a pond, his black eyes reflect back to him.
He swoops and does loop to loops.
He watches other pets below running, hopping, galloping, sliding, and crawling through the meadow or over the bridge.
Sometimes he perches in a tree or on the bridge and squawks a mighty or tweets a tiny.
He sings with other birds; they chirp and whistle their human families' favorite songs to cheer up all the pets.
The predator pets leave the birds alone. They are content and are not anxious.
All the pets feel their owners' hearts.
Yet, my cockatiel knows he might fly away before I can reach him.
He sweetly carried away much of my anger and sadness and wishes to let it go for me, whether I meet him at the Rainbow Bridge or not.
It's miraculous. His death has transformed me.
My pet, my family, will fly into rebirth where I may meet him, again. Thank you, my little bird. You are a treasure: Chirp, Squawk, Tweet, Love
[Fly Featherhead Fly]