Mother Bird

Try not to worry,

Spread your wings

You’ve much more time.

Though your egg has hatched

And your baby is flying,

Keep warm in your nest

And she’ll come home.

Robin, robin, robyn.

You made something beautiful.

Nothing Short of a Mystery

Complicated, what a word

to tear my heart to shreds;

to peel my skin away from home,

leave aching in my head.

I thought I knew the ending

of the play--I acted cautiously--

and came to find the ending was

nothing short of a mystery.

This, my pride and jest

I give you easily and willfully

These, my eyes and ears

I give you secretly and skillfully.

So ends the show I wrote in vain,

the lines I scribbled thoughtfully--

Just to learn the ending was

nothing short of a mystery.

With Wings and Feathers

Remember to visit me when you fly from house to house;

A black silhouette against the rising sun.

You were always up before I was,

But tonight is a different story.

I can hear you breathing from a mile away

In the darkness, in the quiet,

Your machine going in and out

Like artificial lungs

A few feet from your bed,

Where I used to sleep as a little girl.

I’ll feed you the finest crumbs from my homemade bread;

And your favorite—mashed potatoes.

You’re as thin as a million dollar bill,

a dove kept in a tiny cage.

I hear your stories echo in my battling head

Of your love, of your heartache

Your eyes lighting up

Blinking like the machine

A few feet from your bed

Where I used to sleep as a little girl.

I’ll be barefoot on the grass come the morning time,

When the fog is too thick to fly through.

We’ll talk until the sun comes up,

And laugh until it sets.

I know you won’t be able to say much

Through your beak, big and black,

Fresh air in your lungs

And no need for the machine

A few feet from your bed

Where I used to sleep as a little girl.