Like a newly hatched bird, I crane my neck,
open my beak to life. Quiveringly wet,
I await sun, breeze, and touch of love.
My first nest is a tangle of branches,
bits of fabric, silk, burlap, my mother
father, brothers, sister, all of us hidden
in the boughs of a linden tree.
Quiveringly I say, "Please love me."
Do they hearken? There are times
when I am rejected, unseen, but kernels
are provided. I do not go hungry.
Time passes. I quiver with awe, with
delight. Trees are awash in color. I
sing my warbled song to the night.
Will they hear me calling?
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