The Empty Nest

Mj Pettengill Marya of the Wood

An Eastern Phoebe perched gracefully on a branch.

From pale and fluttering shadows

you burst from the sparkling sun

to your perch on the clothesline,

swaying, begging me to ponder.

More often than I dreamed,

you waited there,

amongst the blushing roses,

returning a mutual gaze.

You arrived,

as did I—

unsuspecting beings, together unseen,

cradled within the ancient woodland veil.

We passed each other by,

‘til the final light of day

cast its shadow upon us—

ripples upon quivering leaves.

Again and again, I saw you

alight in the golden, silent dawn

waiting for your mate

and young to come along.

We merged in song,

Phoebe, Phoebe!

As its echo remains imprinted—

harmonious within my soul.

Yet, I am left longing

for my blissful companions

—steadfast and clear—

beneath the wing of the warm, rushing wind.

Upon the earth that spins— 

awakening within its unwinding,

fragments of your nest still linger

above my kitchen door. © Mj Pettengill In honor of National Poetry Month, I share this offering.