Mother’s Day

[Mark A Becker]

Mother’s Day

Who-eet who-eet who-eet teet teet teet teet!
Chloe Cardinal sings ten feet from our kitchen window
across the patio, under the arbor, inside the dense branches
of the boxwood, and Cardinal Frank answers with a proud, strong
who-eet who-eet who-eet teet teet teet teet!

Bring-eet bring-eet bring-eet Chloe implores
as their hatchlings, Curly and Mo raise
pinkish orange beaks for more, more, more-
their fuzzy brown down wriggling among
cracked shells, struggling to hold up their heads.

While Chloe chirps with Mo and Curly
Frank defends the yard- bobbing, weaving, darting-
giving chase to anything that moves.
How lucky can these baby birds be, with 17 year
cicadas arriving right on time to fill their bellies?

[busker]

blessed be the birds that feed on a plague of cicadas
nice last line, unexpected.
american cicadas appear once every 17 years, i suppose. out here in the australian bush, they're vocal every spring and summer. don't mind, though. drowns out the sound of buses.

[TranquillityBase]

blessed be the birds that feed on a plague of cicadas
nice last line, unexpected.
american cicadas appear once every 17 years, i suppose. out here in the australian bush, they're vocal every spring and summer. don't mind, though. drowns out the sound of buses.

I read that the Greeks considered their song beautiful, but the Romans considered it ugly.

[Erthona]

I've always had an affinity for the Greeks, the Romans...not so much.