Poetry With A Mission



...a thought provoking poetical exercise.

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The Fledgling

Upon arising one morning, I heard a commotion of sorts,
The sound of excited birds — and hence, our two cats amongst my thoughts.
And right I was, for there they were, and a very shaken fledgling,
Confronted with life’s harsh realities, one sunny day in spring.

I managed to quickly get the offending predators inside,
Lured by a rattled jar of tasty cat snacks, (that I wisely hide).
Then, shutting the door behind me, I sought to attend to that bird,
Which managed to flutter off, despite the mauling it had incurred.

And there it perched, higher off the ground but still at risk, still too near,
Hence why I kept the back door shut, lest two predators reappear.
Sensing it needed time to rest, I went back inside for a while,
And what I then saw through the window, was nature’s endearing style.

For to its aid there flew a mother bird, with a worm in her beak,
And again, giving sustenance to the fledgling ruffled and weak.
Well, I couldn’t keep the cats in all day, so I went back outside,
Hoping that with some coaxing, it would safely further away glide.

Eventually it did, freed from two well-fed cats pacing the floor,
So, amidst deep thought, I unlocked the cat flap — their own private door.
And out they went, sniffing here, sniffing there, hopefully not to find
A fledgling no doubt still mending, but spared this time, via humankind.

Such reminded me of how we can get mauled by life’s predators,
Be they in the form of calamities, or ills behind closed doors.
Yes, be such via the hand of strangers, or our loved ones, (shamefully),
Who leave us shaken like that fledgling, looking for some sanctuary.

Are you a mother bird in human form, lovingly bearing aid,
A Samaritan, a member of humanity’s caring brigade?
Are you a rescuer of fledglings, those shaken, bruised and battered,
Or do you pass on by, indifferent, as though it never mattered?

By Lance Landall



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