I forbore
checking the finch nest
in the wreath
on the door
after three
maybe four
little finches hatched
in the cold
I knew that February
seemed too early
for laying
that sustained
freezing in March
could take a toll
but I heard Mama
and Papa House Finch
chattering all along
with babies’ bright voices
until a day or so ago
they’ve fledged and gone
already, so
I told myself
when it is warm,
I will check the nest
(don’t disturb them
in this cold)…
Today, it is warm
like spring should be
with the earth bathed
in watercolor pastels
a blossom-spattered mosaic
after soft rainfall
and so I came to see
if the fledglings had gone
at last
not prepared
for what I found
one
hanging backward
over the front
of the nest
open mouth and closed eyes
pointing to the sky
another
wedged in back
against the door
essentially fused
into the nest itself
they are
too tiny
and new
and perfect
to be dead
but they are
they are
seems
a sibling or two
must have made it
to the skies
but these
sweetest little wings
I’ve ever seen
shall never rise
so now I lay
these lost ones
down for keeps
rip away the
beautiful nest
and sweep
and sweep
in silence
where there was
so recently
such happy song
not knowing what
went wrong
(and never will)
it is just
The Way of Things
nevertheless
my heart wrings
in two
and cries
A couple of my hardy finch fledglings in a previous year
*******
with thanks to Two Writing Teachers for the monthlong Slice of Life Story Challenge
lit bits and pieces 
What an emotional poem! I especially love when you wrote, “with the earth bathed
in watercolor pastels
a blossom-spattered mosaic
after soft rainfall” iYou bring your reader with you as you describe the setting and your discovery of nature. Just beautiful!
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That is very sad. We will never know what went wrong.
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I wish I knew – but these are things that happen. The finch parents have already rebuilt the nest – it is so beautiful, and I have been amazed!
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Oh, wow! This is so beautifully written. Such emotion captured. Thank you!
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Thank you for these lovely words!
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Ohhh– even though the comment and the title set me up to know the outcome, your poem still captures the grief and the loss. Repetition is powerful is this piece. Content wise, your actions share so much of who you are as a keeper and caretaker and appreciator of joyful moments and outcomes.
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Thank you for your thoughtful and heartfelt response. Melanie.
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A beautiful poem. Your description of the spring day makes me long for a day like that. Your love and care for these little ones is evident throughout your verse.
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Thank you for your beautiful words.
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My heart fell as I got to the word “freeze”, the foreshadowing predicting your ending. So sorry, Fran. Will the finches come back this spring and try again, you think?
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Thank you for these words, Chris, and by know you know they didn’t even let a full day pass before starting over in the very same spot! Just amazing.
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Fran, why am I so sad? I wait and wait and wait for the word of these babies I have come to love in your door wreath for these years, and now……nature has turned on them. Your repetition of they are is the final acceptance that things cannot be changed, heartbeats cannot start over, life cannot begin anew. These poor babies. The comforting thing is that perhaps they went together – not alone – their spirits soaring out beyond the horizon, though wings were left behind. I have to believe it.
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Ah, Kim – I have to believe the little finch spirits soared beyond the horizon together, too. “Are not two sparrows sold for a penny? And not one of them will fall to the ground apart from your Father….” the tiny finches are in the hands of God, the Creator, who cares for them. Infinite possibility, indeed…
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The way you unfolded the story, so much suspense leading up to what we all knew to be the truth, was beautifully tragic. The last two stanzas were gut wrenching. I’m so sorry.
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It was gut-wrenching to find…and if those finches hadn’t started rebuilding, I think I would be in a dark, sad place for a while. I have, instead, been amazed!
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Fran, I’m weeping. Your title gave us a warning, but I just didn’t want it to be so. You relayed the story and your heart in so few beautifully-chosen words. Thank you, and I’m glad some of them made it out to use those “sweetest little wings / I’ve ever seen” Thank you for sharing.
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It broke my heart to find those babies that way, Denise – and, as you know, I have been amazed since!
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Oh no, no, no, those poor little finches that didn’t make it. I had that same sense of foreboding when I clicked on your link. One can only take comfort in the two other little ones that hopefully made it out alive. Such a poignant poem of loss.
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It wrung my heart, Celia, the loss of those tiny fledged babies. It really did. Hard to know what happened…by now you know the parents have started over, so beautifully! I have no words for how much this restored my soul.
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I guess being open to the wonder in the world means being vulnerable to such things. You capture that so eloquently here. I mourn the loss of those finches along with you.
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Molly, the day after I tore the old nest down the finches began building a new one. On Day 3 it is just beautiful, completely lined with soft white fluff…waiting to welcome new precious life, any morning now.
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