“mother bluebird feeding a fledgling”

Upon a slender willow bough she rests,  
Mother bluebird, in her feathered vest:  
The sky’s own hue upon her gentle wings,  
Soft rust along her breast, the dawn she brings.  
She holds the cool of morning in her eye—  
A glint of watchfulness against the sky—  
While in the trembling shade, a beak of gold  
Gapes wide in faith, and cannot yet be bold.

With every trip above the clovered grass  
She plucks a worm, or catches gnats that pass,  
Her wings a blur of industry and care,  
Returning to the nest’s small world up there.  
She braves the sharp-billed grackle and the jay,  
Each swoop a pledge: I’ll not be turned away.  
Between the brittle oak leaves, patient, she  
Brings sustenance from earth to budding tree.

The fledgling chirps, uncertain, soft, and low,  
His mottled feathers whisper, “Teach me, show.”  
She tilts her head, and gentle as the breeze,  
Feeds hope and strength beneath the sheltering leaves.  
Then, wings outstretched as if to memorize  
The shape of wind, the texture of the skies—  
She sings her lesson: courage, flight, and song,  
And, breakfast done, they greet the sun—and belong.

Create Your Own Poem | Recent Poems