The Sightless House Wren: a poem

 

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