Tuesday, May 24, 2011

Nest Building


Most of our youth was spent begging;
Loudest singers, eating the best…
Feathered up and so secure,
‘Till that day we fell from the nest.

We joined the winter migrations,
Fine tuning our wings for flight…
Journeying to foreign countries,
Some by day, others flying by night.

En masse we followed the north star,
Returning to our birthplace each spring…
Plucking feathers from our own backs,
Collecting curious twigs and string.

Coupled in pairs we were weavers,
Braiding strings into walls for a home…
Eventually the eggs were laid,
We sat waiting, hungry; so alone.

Over time, the new chicks hatched,
Feathered up and fell to the ground…
Time circled round the seasons again,
Next year, they couldn’t be found.

2 comments:

  1. This comment has been removed by the author.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Love the poem! Birds and migration in rhyme; how could I not.
    My favorite line: "Plucking feathers from our own backs."
    I removed my earlier comment due to an error I made.

    ReplyDelete