In the starkness of winter I see them
Unoccupied weavings upon a limb
On high with no cover of leaves
Remnants of what a bird weaves
Former fortress from warmer times
A cleverly crafted bed upon which to lay an egg
A hatchling emerged once by beak freeing a leg
Mouths agape to receive the morsel of nourishment
Hungry, crying, louder, unruly in temperament
Avian parents earnestly provide
Young birds develop over weeks side by side
One flies out and trusts the power of lift
Then another, and the last one; it’s fast and swift
Adventure awaits, time to fend for itself
Grub by grub promotes good health
Fly away oh sweet bird, symbol of life
May you encounter peace and progress from your strife
About the Creator
Scarlett Mellin
I’m a Leo who loves loquaciously lounging, lovely literary jewels, local lexicons, lifelong learning, laughter, labors of love, lascivious lovers, llamas lizards lions, lazy lightning and a lil bit of alliteration.
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The Light Turns
It's Tuesday 7:13 a.m. A cold and clear November morning awaits Ray on his morning commute. Ray rubs his hands together in the front seat of his Subaru. He turns the air temperature up, but keeps the air on low until the air warms up. He looks at the backup camera screen and reverses the Subaru out of his driveway onto Trimble Road.
By John R. Godwin4 days ago in Fiction
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