Fledgling

Her fondness of spring was something

She could never properly describe over

Flowery descriptions bursting

Birds and bees

How slow insistent aching of grass

Made her feel

Like crying, tiny blades unfurl

Their new promises, watching

As old ones fell away, they were so

Last year

The brave few that didn’t make it, buried

Back under, comrades rush in to take

Their place in line, unbroken stakes

Silence of sacrifices made

Breaks altered

A silent sway, birds gathering

Beak’s haul for nests, yanked unceremoniously

Upwards in unexpected flight, packed

Into ravenous corners of held squawking

Bodies never ceased or final darkness

Would tuck them in

Soon, in the safest place she found

Stealthy ones would slip off, away

With those

On untimely side of brown with orange

For sport of wicked hunt, some would

Make it past odds and logic to

Their time

To shine

Harvesting borrowed strength, body too small

Too full of bones and will and hope

Jump

Fall to meet greedy ground swallows

Rushing furiously to greet

Not this way

Resist

Gravity

Push away, do as you must

Flap and flap and cry and flap little robin

Who never saw redbuds from way down here

Or an apple blossom blanket calling to where

You’ll be

If you don’t give it all

Allow wind a chance to

Catch

What feathers represent

Not to fly

Soar