Nuthatch, 2017
—Photos by Taylor Graham, Placerville, CA
NUTHATCH
—Taylor Graham
We have birds in our box. So young, they
may not have flying feathers—how could they
know clouds and the sift of sun through leaves?
Their box hangs from an oak limb, rockabye
birdlets when a breeze comes through.
Their mother hears me, boots muffled in spring
grass. She escapes the box-hole, scolds me
invisibly from above. Her place is trees,
walking head-first down the bark in search of
bugs. I peek in at her babies who have no need
of human—not words nor fingers. I don’t
know how to reach them, wake them to flight.
Could it be tomorrow? Six bright yellow bills
point in six directions. Overhead, leaves
like birds flying.
We have birds in our box. So young, they
may not have flying feathers—how could they
know clouds and the sift of sun through leaves?
Their box hangs from an oak limb, rockabye
birdlets when a breeze comes through.
Their mother hears me, boots muffled in spring
grass. She escapes the box-hole, scolds me
invisibly from above. Her place is trees,
walking head-first down the bark in search of
bugs. I peek in at her babies who have no need
of human—not words nor fingers. I don’t
know how to reach them, wake them to flight.
Could it be tomorrow? Six bright yellow bills
point in six directions. Overhead, leaves
like birds flying.
_____________________
—Medusa, with thanks to Taylor Graham as we celebrate Motherhood (and our Seed of the Week: Tomorrow) with her fine nuthatch poem and these interesting photos of the babies in her nuthatch nest. Join us in the Kitchen on future Thursdays for more of Taylor Graham's work!
Celebrate Poetry!
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