Empty Nest
Tiny birds,
taking turns
on toddled trips
with fragile wings.
Snuggled warm
on breezy nights.
Morning flights
of sky and sea.
Testing wings
at end of spring.
Final fluffs —
and fond farewell.
All that’s left
in remnant nest
are feathered tufts
and bits of shell.
Mama bird,
alone with me,
preening
precious
memories.
Author’s Notes:
I kept this poem intentionally brief, because the years of parenting slip by so quickly.
One minute, there’s pudgy squidgets toddling in diapers. The next minute, they’re driving off to college to test their wings in the wide world of adulthood. The springtime of childhood is over.
And now around the house, there’s just the bits and bobs of their childhood, reminding me of treasured days gone by.