It seems baby bird, that as a youngling
you were just as small,
Big head, skinny neck outstretched
Calling out for nourishment
And got only your parents
regurgitated frustration
Never quite sure what you were supposed to sustain yourself on.
The push from the nest, that age old test
-and the slow spiral of flapping unused and untrained wings
Till the spiral bottoms out
And the hospital beds pump you full of nutrients
As if this latest liquid diet could replace the one you never had
And when they’re through
Another stay
in that uncomfortable nest of pine needles
The watchful eye of parents
Who want to protect and wonder in worry, if their next push
Will strengthen your wings or
finally kill you.
Baby bird you must have some direction,
Just to maintain altitude is not enough.
The nourishment you seek may lie in other trees,
Gather your needles, and flap your wings.
((((((((((((((The spacing on this will be all screwed up... thinking about someone... hope they dont mind))))))))))))))))
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