I haven’t contributed to Poetry Friday in months. I had had plans for National Poetry Month–but COVID-19 dashed them. When schools closed here in early March, I became my older granddaughter’s second grade teacher. I have enjoyed working with her–especially helping her to learn about writing poetry. Teaching, however, has been time consuming. My husband and I have also been providing fulltime daycare for both of our granddaughters as our daughter and son-in-law are considered to be essential workers.
A few weeks ago, three baby blue jays fell out of a tree on our property. We noticed that there was a hole in the middle of the birds’ nest. My granddaughters were distraught. My husband, daughter, and I did our best to keep the babies alive. We got information on what to do from our Animal Control Officer. Unfortunately, despite our best efforts, the baby blue jays died. My husband made a little bird cemetery for them. We gave the birds names and buried them. My older granddaughter wrote a poem for the birds.
A Poem for Three Baby Birds
One
day I found you, little birdies,
on
the ground beneath a tree.
You
fell out of your nest.
Where
were your mom and dad?
I
took you into my barn.
My
grandpa fed you!
You
were so cute when you fell asleep.
You
little birdies snuggled with each other.
The
next morning it was time
to
make you a nest in a pot.
My
mom put you in the pot.
Then
my grandpa
hung
you back up in the tree
close
to your nest.
Three
days later my grandpa
told
us you had died.
We
buried you in the ground.
We’ll
never hear you sing.
We
hope you rest in peace, little birdies.
