My father's books on birds rest on several shelves,
an inheritance I did not wait to be assigned.
Each year one or another is pulled from its place
to double-check the facts on a familiar friend
or on luckiest days to search for color, spot, & song.
My wife endures our chants & putterings
from window to window to catch the best glimpse.
Tonight, talk of a diet of worms & bugs
sent the biggest brother to the shelf for research.
Out of a grandfather's collection,
a grandson's career as a naturalist is born,
one more beautiful case of collaboration
between the gone & the growing.
Those birds are pretty awesome. As is the poem. I always love it when you write about birds. :)
ReplyDeleteI love everything about this, and the last four lines pack quite a punch.
ReplyDeleteI keep trying to figure out which one is the best bird (per our lunch conversation)...they're all pretty fantastic :)
ReplyDeleteIt's the last two lines for me--beautiful is a hard word to use, never says what I want it to--but here, it is perfect.