Straw House
written by: Barbara Harris Leonhard
Nestled in a bed woven
of twigs, grass, mud,
a shattered blue egg
and a shiny pink hatchling.
Its tiny head
stretches backward.
Soft yellow beak opens
the bright orange throat,
I am alive!
I am alive!
Fragile, tiny life
screams for food.
Can it thrive
through storms, parasites,
disease?
I shelter in my nest.
Dare I sing my life,
gather with my flock?
If I fly the coop,
fail to soar,
I lie exposed,
hunted by an invisible predator.
Ready to die?
My remains, carted away
to a mass grave.
Huddled in this brittle shell,
cracked open for a view of light,
of sun to scan my glossy skin.
Still alive.
Still alive.
OCTOBER 2021 AUTHOR OF THE MONTH at Spillwords.com
Barbara Harris Leonhard, a retired ESL instructor, has written a poetry collection Three-Penny Memories: A Poetic Memoir (Experiments in Fiction, 2022), which is about her relationship with her mother, who suffered from Alzheimer’s. Barbara is also the Editor for MasticadoresUSA. She lives in Mid-Missouri with her husband and cat Jasper, who refuses to go on rides to count the deer.
Latest posts by Barbara Harris Leonhard (see all)
- Spooked - November 2, 2024
- Calliope’s Revenge - July 14, 2024
- A Squirrel’s Front Teeth Never Stop Growing - May 9, 2024
