I found your bent and broken frame This morning across the patio strewn;You wanted to work your new wings too soon And now they lie blood-shod and lame.For weeks you gorged on slugs and worms And chirruped amid a raucous crowdFor the pair of gods upon whose return You jostled and jousted and gibbered loud.Keenest of them all, you were to go - Into that beckoning hole of blue;Until you couldn’t resist its call below And in a frantic cartwheel, finally flew…
But you flew feeble against gravities unforgiving might, And snatched too soon the sweet, intoxicating light.by Chris Darby
Oh dear Mrs. T. that is so sad!
Mrs T, your poem speaks to my heart. I've found my joy at welcoming so many birds into the garden has been dampened in equal measure by the deaths. As a newby to a large garden Chris Darby's poem captures the unforgiving nature of life outside my windows!
Thank you!
This really does capture it, as Snapdragon says. Great.