Spoetify #13 Survivin’ (Bastille, written anxiously today with a confused dog)

This morning

a bastard magpie

thin, oil skinned,

flew into a perfect blackbird nest

and flew out

dangling a purple chick

in its beak.

Briefly the chick’s wing

spread like fingers.

Its first flight.

The parents came out and

I felt their hysterical no-no-nos

As clearly as my own.

But I am not being honest.

This is not the first time the magpie has done what it must do.

And the blackbirds still return

With worms and twigs and hope each time.

And I still watch

And keep my desperation to myself.