Wednesday, April 28, 2010

Robins









Robins




Four perfect blue eggs nestled in twigs

Warmed and nurtured with maternal care.

Mother serene as she shelters her offspring

Father guards the nest from all who would stare.


Built inside our carport, on top of a light

Outside the door we use day and night.

We disturb mom and dad with our comings and goings

Soon we detour out the back door to let sleeping birds lie.


My son ever curious climbs a ladder to behold

Three wee balls of fluff, harboring one last blue egg.

I worry like crazy as if they were my own babies

Long skinny necks crane above the nest begging.


Tiny perfect veined heads rear up at each sound

Mouths expand as wide as they’ll spread.

One bird escapes the nest, now outward bound

Where did it go, what will it catch?


Leaving town for a few days away

Our return is greeted by a nest empty and hollow.

Would that I had wings, my little family I’d follow.


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