chickadees in the ash
robins in the pine
sparrows in the oak
tiny little pairs flitter
in the air, a busy cloud
beds of bright green moss worked from a sidewalk crack
bowls of long-stomped mud, cool and smoothly packed
piles of chaos, feathers grass and plastic wrap
each molds a home from nothing
stopping only to sing
dusk brings pause
to announce the joy of being
chickadees in the ash
robins in the pine
sparrows in the oak
and then
fragile globes
life
silky smooth spots on a milkdrop
tiny gems the color of sky
a soap bubble rolled in the dirt
treasures beyond price
always one warming, one warding
not affording one moment of sleep
without an eye open
and then
tiny movements
mouths the size of heads
heads the size of pebbles
world the size of call, eat, sleep
but that's big enough for now
for chickadees in the ash
robins in the pine
sparrows in the oak
icy needles poke through cracks
in bowls of moss and mud smooth-packed.
piles of chaos don't hold back
invaders seeking
scrabbling at the door
shadows passing quickly
tiny bodies thin and sickly
beg for warmth no more
all those hours of loving care
swept into the early morning
sit and sing to mourn, to share
a loss
heads cocked and straightened
minds shocked and weighted
with the dream of family
then gone, to a secret place of sorrow
back, in only days
fly again
tiny little pairs flitter
in the air, a busy cloud
try again
chickadees in the ash.
robins in the pine.
sparrows in the oak.