I come across a dead koolbardie magpie in the the grasslands and big eucalypts not far from where a large branch fell down by the owl nest. His back is to the sky, all black and white, and his beak is tucked in under him—under his chest. He is in a small cupping of dark sand—not grass—and the earth seems to hold him there, like that…or his body at least; this bird of the sun, this being of the stars and skies.