The young ones are still here,
grown
from their nests over the summer
months
into newly fledged juveniles
preparing to leave,
their wings newly tested and ready
for the journey
following the routes and instincts
of their parents,
bound for the coast; we will mourn
their eerie cries
missing from our winter lives,
snowbound here,
replaced by silence and the low
moans
carried by the winds howling at our
door.
No comments:
Post a Comment