The cardinal’s feathers contrasted
sharply with the hedge bush;
he flitted noisily nearby
until the buzzing hushed.
In disarray, the bush fell
to the daisy-dotted ground–
a hand reached to gather the limbs,
then stopped at a soft cheeping sound.
A nest of twigs and twine–
home of featherless bird babies–
once secure on the fork of the limbs,
now lay scattered in the daisies.
The cheep-cheep of the birdies
could no longer be denied;
the big man picked them up
and with no one looking, cried.
Published in Ozarks Mountaineer,
The Arkansas Democrat Magazine,
and Poems by Poets’ Roundtable
of Arkansas
cCopyright, 2012 Freeda Baker Nichols
Freeda Baker Nichols 
No, I’m not a poet. Not a bit. I only enjoy writing and (especially) reading poems, very much. But I would love to be one, someday, when my writing has become a lot better.
LikeLike
Ohh… One can’t decide if it’s beautiful or sad a story. It almost made me cry but better to smile. Such a wonderful poem 🙂
LikeLike
Sometimes we smile through tears, right?
LikeLike
Oh, yes absolutely. Only it was sort of the other way round, with me 🙂
LikeLike
Thank you for visiting my blog and commenting on the poem. Are you a poet?
LikeLike
Poor birdies! Glad that “big man” found them, and that he had enough compassion to cry over them.
LikeLike
The “big man” really did cut down the bush before discovering the bird babies. Thanks, Pat.
LikeLike