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

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“Thy fate is the common fate of all, into each life some rain must fall . . .” Quoting from “The Rainy Day” by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow (1807 – 1882)



Winter Rain and Daisies

The rain in winter hits the ground to run
in rivulets to muddy pool and creek.
The hidden, strong and glaring rays of sun
dare not to draw the veil for one quick peek.
And so it is a weary time, at best
for man within the waves of winter’s rain–
for beasts of burden, birds upon a nest,
for all who shiver but do not complain.
When warming sun removes the veil, at last,
and man is glad at sight of newborn day,
perhaps the worst of wintertime is past
and green-leaf spring is somewhere on its way.
Only the sun can take away the chill
and wake the sleeping daisies on the hill.

c Copyright, 2013, Freeda Baker Nichols


(Shakespearean sonnet, one of my favorite forms to use in writing poetry)