Upon Seeing a Fledgling Oriole (I Think) Lost on Our Front Stoop
I saw them come for him today -
I,
the still, whispering audience to a parent’s calling
flirting with a parent’s nightmare,
peeking through white blinds lightly dusted,
hoping reflections in glass are enough to hide behind
Them,
the father, ebony, sunset-breasted,
white chevrons on his tail,
the mother, the chestnut reflection of her mate,
mirroring each other’s chirping hops and staccato head tilts
Him,
the stick-legged prodigal,
confusedly peeping and leaping
up the corner bricks of the front stoop
Hear them before seeing them
Past the steps, only three
Mother, Father, calling
Gone
Hear them a few feet away
Past the steps,
Father, Mother, calling
Again
Up one step,
Mother, calling
Away
Up two steps,
Mother, calling
Away
Up one step,
Father, calling
Father leaps to the tall, straggly bush,
the top of a small-leaved branch,
riding the branch down gravity’s pull,
the branch now perpendicular to the ground,
Father perfectly balanced, calling
Away
Mother fills the same space,
getting the same vantage, calling
Do they see him, frozen in the corner,
from fear or exhaustion?
So near, so near,
do they not see him, smell him, feel him near?
Does he see them, how they don’t stop, won’t stop,
calling, calling, calling?
Why doesn’t he call back?
Does he not hear them, see them, want them back?
Finally
An answer from the corner
He hops toward the steps,
No, no, away toward a new corner!
Third step
Mother, calling
He sees her, hops close
Mother flutters, waits,
away, into the low bushes,
calling
He two-legged bounds to third step’s edge,
looks,
flutters his tired, unpracticed wings at her leaf-muffled voice,
awkward leap to the second step,
crouches, shuffles, almost ready,
half tumbles, half flutters from second step
toward the calling and home
Background:
I JUST witnessed this, maybe an hour ago.
It is tempting to ramble about this as a metaphor, but I think I’ll leave this one to your own mind.
Thank You, Father, for that baby’s parents and their persistence. Thank You, Father, for moments of finding that happen every day, unseen by us, and the rare moments when human eyes are present to witness them. Thank You, Father, for being the One who witnesses them all, and never apathetically.
Wishing you goodness without end,
Jess