A Baby in Distress, or my need to rescue and interrupt Nature’s plans
Flapping instincts call to try,
yet wings not formed, not ready to fly.
Blue Jay baby falls to the ground;
dazed, and squawking, Mama! sounds.
Tinker, my Terrier dancing around,
barking Hey Dad! Hey Dad! Look what I found!
I watch the helpless youngster,
futilely hopping, not flying from danger,
I’m at once parental and a stranger;
torn between the ways of nature and
my powerlessness to nurture.
Babies fall from the sky each day;
is there ever a way to save one’s future?
Or do we merely accept there’s no promise of survival?
In the universal balance, each life is trivial;
when a weak one falls, the effect is barely noticeable.
Occasionally appears a savior’s arrival,
with unknowable fate, a touch of grace,
the little one gets another chance
to pick itself up and try again, to journey on
wherever the universe holds its place;
or maybe to perish is the ultimate grace.
I cup the baby into my hands, it scrambles to resist
but somehow lands at that place of surrender
where despite all doubt, resignation takes hold
and it all works out.
I moved the baby to under the brush
and kept the dogs distracted and hushed.
That’s all I can do, it’s time to let go;
whether or not the baby thrives, I can know
the hand of GUS guided my own;
placing me in this present event
to witness the gift to learn again
that, right on schedule, life came or it went.
But after all, however it goes,
I still won’t know what Providence knows,
or what to expect,
or when it will show.