Photo: V. Slotto
Last year I gawked for hours as mother robin sat in the messy nest she and her mate constructed with care in the tree outside my office window. After a while, three hungry beaks appeared above the rim of their security—scrawny maws gapping, twittering, waiting to be sated. The biggest one bullied, grasped in greed for tender morsels and twitching insects. He fledged first and quickly left for good. A few days later, always watching, I saw the smaller ones, carefully coached, dare tentative leaps into the ether of their tiny cosmos. And finally they flew, abandoning the known for our back yard.
summer sings freedom
quaking aspen sheltering
life’s risky moments
The second day, broken hearted, I scooped up a tiny body. I couldn’t really scold my Jack Russell as she only followed her instincts. I wept inside, considering the cost of being free.
Joining my friends at dVerse Poets Pub Poetics where we are asked to write about what we see or have seen out the window.
Photo: Victoria Slotto
Was it like this my entire life
or only since the years stole
in and swept away beauty and desire?
I stand here, watching shadows
of youthful joy and folly,
longing for a simple touch
or even the smile of a stranger
passing by me in Wal-Mart
as I walk slowly, using my cart as a cane.
They are so busy with their lives.
They have things to do and families
to raise and who love them. You are gone
now, leaving me to this darkness,
Gazing at life unfurling before me.
Sitting on my porch, watching
through the another’s window,
nursing memories and fears.
Waiting for death.
For Poetics at dVerse, Lillian would have us look outside or inside a window. The poem I’ve written isn’t about me, but it is something I have encountered so very often working as a nurse with, for the most part, elderly patients. Though I don’t feel old, I know age is sneaking up on me, so I begin to look at things more often from the perspective of the elderly. Please, don’t forget them!