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.
