Blackbird Feeding Fledgling

Written by: Greta Robinson

On hot hard dry ground
bits of yesterday's bread and cheese
untouched by starlings, seagulls, pigeons
extra to requirements
anyone's now
The water's dried up

A blackbird eyeing these scraps
and the sky and its young and I
standing stock still, inquisitive,
ventures, approaches,
finds something worth eating
I am a statue

The fledgling has joined its mother
a risky mission from cover to sun
Lighter in colour, its feathers softer
demeanour expectant
her equal in size
yet dependent still

Beween vigilance and sustenance
random morsels find their way
into its submissive beak, until
poised, they take flight
The evening hangs still
The statue fills the water-bowl