This poem is based on the story “Growing Up” which is found in the “So I’ve Got This Kid” section of this archive.
Gentle spring:
First of May
Tiny chicks have hatched today
Just beneath our window bay.
Verdant spring:
Life abounds
Father red and mother brown,
Tiny bodies fletched with down.
Callous spring
Rushing past
Scarcely notices, alas
Brown feathers on the grass.
Heartless spring
Has no care:
Tiny bodies struggle there,
Shiver in the evening air.
Sad spring:
A child’s hands
Try to help the best they can:
Cannot change fate’s solemn plan.
Silent spring:
Petals fall,
Fragile bundle, much too small
Lies beneath the garden wall.
Wise spring:
Children play,
The red bird has flown away
Hoping for another May.
Speak Gently spring,
and make no sudden sound,
For in my windy valley yesterday, I found
New-born foxes squirming on the ground.
Speak gently. *
So I’ve got this kid…and we don’t have any foxes, but we had a pair of cardinals begin a nest in the lilac right outside our dining room window in March. This may be the same pair who built there last year, only to have the nest dashed to the ground in an April squall with all eggs lost. So both kids kept an anxious eye on this year’s construction, but it survived intact.
On the first of May, their tiptoeing caution was rewarded with the sight of two wobbly heads with gaping beaks popping up whenever the branches were rustled. We were all quite pleased with the prospect of watching the little family grow up and neighbors were proudly informed of the new arrivals.
That afternoon I allowed the kids another brief inspection of the babies, but cautioned them not to spend too much time around the nest and frighten off the mother. Stephen said he had seen her chase away a grackle around lunch time but that was the last he’d seen of her. We spotted the male on the deck railing near the nest but he never apporached the brood.
About 8 PM that day, I realized what was wrong when I found the mother’s body in the grass near the street. I turned off the mower and crouched down near her, sadly contemplating what was in store for her chicks.
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Tracy Meisky is a poet, writer, singer, songwriter and all-around boat rocker from way back. Feel free to look around, but if you break it, you bought it.