A Poem for a Baby Bird

There is a bird nest over the light by the front door. When returning from walking my dog, Lilly, I noticed a dead bird chick was on the doorstep under the light, and I buried it in the backyard. My mom said that she would move the nest after the other birds’ chicks left.

 

A Poem For Baby Birds

 

Growth is a process,

A process of change.

And prepares us to fly.

 

Whether we fly or not,

The process keeps going. 

 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

Music I Listened to Tonight

Writing about Federalist Paper #2

Thanksgiving, Family, and the Federalist Paper No. 1