Launching Day

I’d like to know, my darlings,

if you felt pushed to grow, and

spread your wings, as it were,

to tumble to the ground outside

a dormitory at a school in a city

far from all that you knew?

 

Was it hard to find food, warmth

friends, and interest in all you did

though it wasn’t always what you

wanted, a way to make a small room

and a complete stranger feel safe

enough as a temporary home?

 

Were you fledged enough then and

full of confidence, or did it seem

the farcical pin feathers you sprouted

would never lift you high enough

to see what was coming or where

in the world you might be going?

 

I ask, my dears, now that you are

fully on your own, building nests far

from mine, as this is launching day for

the tiny sparrows who live above my

door and now spill from the warm cup

of twigs that’s held them since egghood.

 

I put them back, of course, and within

an hour they were out again and gone.

I begged them to say something as I searched

the grass, but soon I knew they would not

peep for me; I am not their mother, and

their future is in other hands than mine.

 

I’m your mother, though, and this

tableau of nature’s severity takes my

breath and makes me wonder if you feel

that your launching was appropriate,

and when you hatch chicks will you

choose to deviate or do the same?

 

© Dana Hughes 4.20.18

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