It was yesterday, late in the afternoon.
All day, every fifteen-twenty minutes,
the mother had flown in to feed them.
They chirped loud chirps: Me first!
No! Me! Me next! Don’t forget me!
And then they napped, transforming
their meals into feather and muscle.
Just the day before, I caught one of them
standing on a twig at the nest’s edge,
between naps, bold and fearless as could be.
Today, I didn’t get a chance to see them
until afternoon. With camera in hand
I walked softly through light rain.
They were silent. Must be napping.
But no! They were gone!
I just stood there in the rain, staring,
waiting for my eyes to convince me
of what was plainly the fact. The nest
was empty. They were gone.
So, the chapter closes; the stories go on.
I’ll remember the one about baby robins.