Straw House, poetry by Barbara Harris Leonhard at
Landon Martin

Straw House

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,

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.

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