Leaf falls from limb,
And wintry wind howls through treetop.
The dead world waits beneath
Flat sheet of altostratus
And blanket of snow,
As last year's acorns await resurrection,
Growing soft in the warm bosom of The Womb.
And Apollo finds no strength
To drag the sun higher,
To keep it longer in the sky,
To shine its light and warmth
On the sleeping world.
Green and violet and yellow and blue
Recede into black and white and grey and brown
Of hibernating Earth.
Oh, fledglings! How we care for you,
Both I and your mother.
Safely in your nests you hide
Beneath warm breast and bright wing.
But you have grown too large for us,
And your wings are growing
Nimble and strong and restless.
And your chirps have passed, too.
Your mother and father hear, now,
Your blithe voices.
We have heard these songs before.
Do not fear the tears in our eyes.
Do not despise the sorrow in our hearts.
Do not look at us so desperately.
We have weathered many winters.
You have passed the winter safely
Under our watchful eyes,
In the safety of this nest,
Fed from our bowels.
Did you know how scarce the food was?
Did you fear the howling coyote?
Did the shadow of the hawk disturb your rest,
As it did ours?
But now your breasts, too, are strong.
Your voices, too, and melodious.
Plumage bright and airy
Like peacocks and doves,
You stand on our bough,
Crasping tightly, with thin leg and skinny knee.
Can the sparrow watch her children fall,
Or must she turn her face?
Beware of hunters.
Beware of vipers.
Beware of minks.
Beware of hawks and owls.
Beware of beautiful bluejays, who will rob your nests.
Beware of milkweed and passion vine, and
Beware of fancy-winged butterflies, who feed upon them,
And other illusions.
Beware, but rise.
Unfold your wings in the falling.
Ride upon the winds that threaten your nests,
And master them
As they carry you to heights greater
And you perch upon the tops of trees,
To unloose your song
Upon the world.
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