Baby Bird

A little baby bird:
Such a tiny, fledgling soul.

Come, please come!
It’s time we met.
Your every little flutter
Makes my drumskin belly roll.

Come, please come!
The stage is set,
And never have I felt
Such a joyful, longing ache.

Come, please come!
But not just yet,
The thought of us apart
Is more than I can take.

Come, please come!
But not just now,
For never have I cradled
So much churning hope inside.

Come, please come!
But god knows how.
I cannot picture you,
My love, however much I’ve tried.

Come, please come!
At last, allow
Your patient daddy man
To hold you close with pride.

Come, please come!
For you will be
The first to join our nest
And make our two hearts three

Dammed if she didn’t

Slowly building mute frustration:

Will it ever flow again?

Sometimes words come swift and giddy;

Sometimes no ink in my pen.

 

Hours that turn to days, unanswered

Questions from my twitching hands.

Over time, wild space reserved for

Writing falls to life’s demands.

 

Nestled in warm breeze and scratchy

Grass, I sit and feel the page.

Now, on mud-cracked basin, flows a

Stream released from my mind’s cage.

 

Like the fractious cry that soars from

Tiny lungs first tasting air,

Words, cascading, flood me with

Relief from hope’s expectant stare.