The House In Which We Learned To Fly

It’s empty now, no peeps or squeaks or flutter. As winter’s here and autumn ends with stutter. A hollow wooden shell is all that remains A ghostly house with echoed growing pains. Once, sunshine greeted hungry youth Through cracks of sticks held by tooth and nail, Where hungry, stretching necks were seen to flail. Wiggling and squirming to feed and feel The warmth of a pre-digested meal. Warm bodies in a small space, growing daily face to face. We watched them grow and heard each tiny plea, See to me. No! Come and see to me! Busy parents did their best to feed, encourage, guard the nest; Share their hard sought food and sometimes scold. Imparting lessons needed to be bold; To stand upon the precipice alone and take the leap Into unknown air with only faith inside to keep themselves aloft. Feel the first of many winds beneath those fragile wings still soft Dare to know a joy that all hearts feel when freedom sings: I can fly! - I can fly! All that’s needed is the faith to try. At winter’s end the house will come alive. Another family will begin their journey to survive. Peeps and squeaks and flutters will return And we will watch them all - and we will learn.