Startling Poetry: Cowbird and Robin

Cowbird and Robin by Cynthia Blomquist Gustavson

My Oklahoma rambler has a tornado shelter

underground with a heavy door. I ignore

weather watches that interrupt my favorite

shows until they upgrade to warning.

Before bed I glance at radar circles,

listen for the wah-whine of sirens.

and if nothing’s near, I go to sleep

Same for robberies and rapes

and even the war. You get used

to anything. Except, I thought,

a cowbird rolling robin’s eggs out

of our porch nest, baby blue shells

splattering their contents on the brick

like morning eggs in a frypan,

No good for eating, just absent

from a nest that then held a cowbird egg

tended by mama and papa robin,

and I got used to that too when I saw

the fledgling cowbird waving its wet wings,

its adoptive parents watching, warning,

gently nudging him into the world.

Discuss Amongst Yourselves

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s