199
in
the nest
in
the nest
there
is seldom agreement
often
as not
feathers
fly, there's blood
the
little birds have been known
to
peck out each other's eyes
tear
heads off
nothing
familial matters here
there
is no piety among birds
truth,
fact – these each beneath contempt
the
lice, the weather unprotected
predators,
the push out – 'no, it won't be me'
such
things as these must matter
every
bird's dinosaur instinct
who's
not? who cares?
the
blue's above
there
are mild days
the
sun still shines
a
breeze tells all is right
and
there is the first flight
when
wings are cued
and
when push comes to shove

see, now I struggle for a word. Resonant for this child with many brothers and sister.
ReplyDeleteStrange, disturbing, excellent.
ReplyDeleteThe twist of the mild days though
then the breeze that picks up
the compulsion
we learn to fly while we're falling.