Saturday, March 24, 2007

Easter Birds

They would never live to be fledglings
Those newborns that had fallen
From their nest on Sunday
Motionless in the quagmire
My children found them
An introduction to death
And helplessness
Mother had abandoned her young
Human father couldn't fix this
Explaining there would be
No resurrection this Easter
All I could do was dig
A year later
Staring at the makeshift grave
The chipped red brick reads
Simply, "Easter Birds" in
Ink as faded as my memories
Of childhood
I realize, burried there
With the hatchlings
Lies my children's innocence

--Shenandoah Lynd



Blogger Tony said...

Wow! Doah, that is a great poem. Choked me up bro!One of my favorites....

7:02 PM  
Blogger Christina said...

I'm with Tony

9:37 AM  

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