There is only one left.
She holds still, alone, in her nest.

Her parents are away, teaching
her sisters and brother how to fly.

I am afraid her parents will abandon her.
Will her mother and father come back to feed her?

Will they give up on her because she was not ready
to fly when the others were? 

Day passes. Night passes. The last little one
sleeps alone when she never has before.

Alone, alone, alone.

In the morning, my fears are relieved by grace:
her mother has returned to feed her.

They are having quite a conversation!
Her mother is fluttering in agitation over her, beak-to-beak!

At least she is not hungry.
I go to work for the day.

When I return in the evening,
the nest is empty.

Now the possibilities
are open.

Jane Beal
La Casa Flora * 5.2..12


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