Written, November 09, 2023
Poetry/Personification/Haibun/Boreal Chick-A-Dee Copyright Protected, ID 11-1596-571-09 All Rights Resrved, 2023, Constance La France
I was born in May, my nest was in a hole of an old tree. Mother had made the nest warm and cozy with hair, fur, and dead leaves. I often wondered where she got the hair. I had seven siblings in the beginning. Our home was in a boreal forest in Northern Canada. I soon realized I liked the cold. Of course, in the first days of my life I was helpless, mother and father fed us. But, by eighteen days I had sprouted wings and was flapping them a lot. I thought I was ready to fly but mother would push me back into the nest. Mother's songs were so beautiful with trills and whistles, soon I was singing. Sadly, I lost some of my siblings to predators, owls, hawks, even squirrels. I am a Boreal Chickadee, a songbird, I am sure you have heard our songs. I forage on confer branches, probe the bark. Our home is in trouble, it is being cut down, and we are dramatically threatened. I am afraid of where I will go. For now, I forage the boreal forest with a small flock of friends. we sing sweet trilling songs that drift through the trees for miles ... as snow gently falls Poetry/Personification/Haibun/Boreal Chick-A-Dee Copyright Protected, ID 11-1596-571-09 All RightsResrved, 2023, Constance La France
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
