I have documented my daily life in poetry for over fifty years. It is only now that my knowledge of technology has met my ability to pursue this medium. It is all too overwhelming as I approach 60 years of age in an instant. Enjoy the ride and put your seat belt on...I am starting from now! To see an earlier decade, the link is: http://www.pioneernet.net/doge/index.htm
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.
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ReplyDeleteLove the poem! Birds and migration in rhyme; how could I not.
ReplyDeleteMy favorite line: "Plucking feathers from our own backs."
I removed my earlier comment due to an error I made.