The Sightless
House Wren
My friend (with
a few benefits)
has informed me
he cannot see me
anymore, he has
found a committed
exclusive
partner, so this weekend
I shall remain
as untouched
as the newly
fallen snow,
only it is now
mid-May,
and I remain
without a caress.
On my daily
walk, I pass a tiny brown
long-beaked
bird, lying sideways
and still on
the pavement,
killed no doubt
by a passing car.
Her last touch
was a jarring
blast, not a
gentle wisp like today’s breeze.
I realize that
the car has
not only ended
this one life,
but the babies
waiting
back in the
nest as well,
now hungry and crying.
I say a quick
prayer to Mother Nature,
remind her some
of us humans
are working to
spread the message
that we must
save her, must
rewind the
damage we have wrought,
as much as
possible, and I hear her reply,
“To whom have
you told?
We have
received nothing yet.”
The wet soil
pushes its hot breath back
at me, and the
humid smooth grass
waves me onward
responding,
“Don’t stop
now. There is work
yet to do.
Go,
do it.
Spread the
word.
Save us.
Save her.
Before there is
nothing left
to save.”
Tansy Julie the
Soaring Eagle Paschold
5.23.24