Friday, February 26, 2010

Chickadee child

Born, she was, like a chickadee,
in a bed of moss spun through
with strings of tinsel,
salvaged thread by thread
from a discarded tree
in the last long twisted
throes of winter. A blessing,

a charm, her mother wove
around her, spell by spell,
to ward away the pernicious grime
and lecherous looks
of this ill-fated world. The child

grew long and lean and brown,
running faster than the boys,
their feet clumsy, stomping over
the mud-packed ground, until
one sweet-talked a kiss from her
behind the largest tree
where none could see. She ran,

again, with the skill of a deer,
but she couldn’t run
quite fast enough
to escape this sordid town.
So here she is, to this very day,
dreams caught snug-tight
in cobwebs build of dust,
grime-streaked children
of her own bound meticulously,
one by one, with charming spells,

and though you’ll never learn
their names, please know
How each and every sun kissed child,
lays his, her head each shadowless night
upon a down-soft pillow, a chickadee’s bed
so carefully spun with gold.

Rachel Westfall
February 26, 2010

11 comments:

Cat said...

Oh Rachel this took me there. nice work.

Karen said...

You've told volumes in this short work. "Out of the cradle, endlessly rocking..."

audrey said...

I love this ~ it is beautiful.
How I admire your way with words.
♥ audrey

christopher said...

Wordsmiths

We ply the old trade,
and wandering from one far place
to another down
the stream of true song,
we seek to find love's turned key
in the locks of life.

The dream child dances
beside the bed we have made
for our hope, where we
lie down in moonlight
after the last song is sung,
after the smith has
banked back all the fire.

namingconstellations said...

Beautiful... I love the fusion of nature and humanity that spins its way through the poem like those threads. And yet, it's a very bittersweet poem. But maybe it's all about finding that balance between who we were and who we need to be.

Fireblossom said...

This is so you. :-)

Ronald Rabenold said...

My favorite winter bird.
Nice imagery. Thanks for sharing.
Keep imagining and sharing.

joaquin carvel said...

this is amazing - sweet and sad and beautiful - all at once, together. i love how the spells pass down the generations, "bound meticulously" - like hope, or promise.

Mikeeee-he said...

Chickadee child, from the Chickadee mother :)

Before I read this masterpiece of words, I saw a chickadee on the willow tree in my yard, and I thought of you writing a poem.

And poof- Chickadee child...Lovely ;)...

Woman in a Window said...

ohhhh
to the heart
gorgeous

xo
erin

Cherie/ Butterfly Dreamer said...

Beautiful as usual.