Saturday, July 28, 2018

Falling from the Nest














Mama sparrow flapped and chirped
With great fury
As my husband and I peeked in
on her babies,
Eyes open, feathers formed,
Nearly ready to fly.

The babies squawked at my camera lens.
One fluttered.
Was it fear or anger
At these intruding giants?
He beat his wings
Until launching over the edge of the nest
Onto the pavement
Where he could only overcome
Gravity’s pull by inches.

Oh how Mama raged impotently then.
What could she do against us
Even as my husband
cupped her baby
To set him back in the nest?

I apologized to Mama,
Prayed that my own children
Would fly rather than plummet
in the coming days,
And that I’d have grace to trust
In unfamiliar forces
Which I could mistake as malevolence
Should my fledglings fall.

2 comments:

(not necessarily your) Uncle Skip, said...

We all want them to fly rather than fall.
We then may shed a tear while we're proud when they do.

Craig said...

"Prayed that my own children Would fly rather than plummet"

I am familiar with that prayer. . .

Good to see you out-and-about, my friend. I have missed you. . .