Blackbirds

Blackbirds

They came to us one April day,

a pair of love birds looking for a place to stay.

ending their search and ending their roam,

Somewhere they could weave their nested home.

She in her clean coat of leather brown

prim and proper with a chest of fluffy down

spritely, sharp, determined and free,

fit as a fiddle a mother to be.

He an out cast, a shabby oily black,

from the wrong side of town, on the wrong track

missing his lower beak with feathers awry

been through the wars and refusing to die

This strange couple seemingly mismatched,

he from the ghetto a fighter as soon as he hatched.

she from the city and so strong that she thrives

They entered our garden and they entered our lives,

A brace, a couple and a mating pair

She full of grace and he of despair,

And in the dark shadows of the sunlit tangled honeysuckle,

their nest hidden and their eggs kept warm with a loving snuggle.

Each taking their turn to cover the clutch and wait

for the tiny oval eggs to warm and slowly incubate

a duty carried out with an ardor so very dependable

sitting there a guardian, a protector and a sentinel.

April becomes May and the time flies by 

high above Swallows start to fill the bright blue sky,

and one by one new life breaks through

Four little blackbirds with nothing to do.

Defenseless and vulnerable to a risk ridden world

cossetted and protected until their wings unfurled

Blind bald and helpless the future unsure,

The parents work tirelessly until they mature.

Then all of a sudden on one designated day

They take the plunge and try to fly away.

Over the brim that's kept them all in

leaving their kin behind safely within

Mum and Dad fluster as their brood departs

you can sense the tension, the beating hearts.

This odd duo working as one,

feeding the fledglings their life begun.

Within the week two chicks are dead

 a bite to the throat and they are bled

No time for sorrow no time to care

the parents now feed the surviving pair

A few days pass and the babes have departed

two lives and two stories now have started

Oily black and leather brown still remain here

I wonder if they're sad or if they even shed a tear?

One day soon they too shall go

leaving just a nest and the status quo.

I watch this disparate pair with admiration

and see a love and devotion in it's personification.

                                                                m.thomas

 

 

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