My Father’s Nest
Today four little robins
left the nest and flew away.
I turn time to a month ago
and see their nest growing
over my home’s lamp
stick by stick
beat by beat
song by song.
I turn to yesterday
and see their sunlit wings
lifting from the nest
leaving shadows with open beaks.
Today I missed them
as I did my father
when he left us and never returned.
Death didn’t give him a chance to get older.
I’ve passed his age.
He didn’t even finish the story he told me
about the orphan child
who walked on Earth
looking up at the sky
because he heard the dead live there.
He saw their faces in the clouds
and when he cried
the clouds rained with him.
I turn time back
so my father brings me toys
to share with the neighborhood girls
pausing that moment
while time takes the shape of a robin
who doesn’t seem to hear my calling behind.
