My Father’s Nest

Today four little robins

left the nest and flew away.

I turn time to a month ago

and see their nest growing

over my home’s lamp

stick by stick

beat by beat

song by song.

I turn to yesterday

and see their sunlit wings

lifting from the nest

leaving shadows with open beaks.

Today I missed them

as I did my father

when he left us and never returned.

Death didn’t give him a chance to get older.

I’ve passed his age.

He didn’t even finish the story he told me

about the orphan child

who walked on Earth

looking up at the sky

because he heard the dead live there.

He saw their faces in the clouds

and when he cried

the clouds rained with him.

I turn time back

so my father brings me toys

to share with the neighborhood girls

pausing that moment

while time takes the shape of a robin

who doesn’t seem to hear my calling behind.