Poetry bus , "Star"

He was always driving
a small, rusty dusty car

came down our road mostly on Fridays
on his way to the farmers market.

He carried little jars of balm
made from herbs for scrapes and bruises.

One time he arrived in my yard
just as I was about to bury
a songbird found in the garden.

" May I ?"
He cradled the limp form
lifting it in both hands,

sound started from
the back of his throat,

moving into a chant
with movements of a well known ritual,

it ended with  humming
as he covered the little body with earth.

When I asked where this came from,
He said " Sta-her.

Far, far away
in a place
where sled dogs run."