Homeless in Spring
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 in 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.
© Freeda Baker Nichols
That is sad. He didn’t know they were in there.
That last shot is gorgeous.
The nest was well hidden in a thick leafed bush that my husband thought needed to be removed. Had he known about the little birdies, the bush would have stayed.
Nice poem and beautiful photographs. My heart goes out to all the characters in this little story.
Thank you, Dorothy. It’s partly true. The man did cut down a bush that had a nest of baby cardinals hidden in it—unknown to him, until it was too late. The rest is imagination. He felt terrible about it. It happened when we first moved here and we didn’t know how rich we were with beautiful birds.
Great photos to accompany your poem and the quotation!
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Thank you, Tammy!