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They flounce into my morning
just as dawn crawls over the roof
squawking to locate their newly found songs
eager to appease mother who shimmies
to and fro with mothers pride.
The corner of my roof carries noises
Claws scrape wood.
Discontented squabbles from one who lost the worm
Mother squeezes her narrow body through a corner crevis
her silhouetted wings accurately glide into place.
It quietens for a spell, until its time for a coaxed flight
then it’s my turn to rouse the household, sound asleep in the far room
away from the bird songs.
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Great imagery and word choice. You've almost fashioned a "story" out of these little creatures, thier lives taking center stage. I love the lines:
"Discontented squabbles from one who lost the worm
Mother squeezes her narrow body through a corner crevis
her silhouetted wings accurately glide into place."
I like the comparison of your words with that of the responsibilities in being a parent, in this case, a mother, though children are more complex. Enjoyable read...
