Perspective
These streets are safe enough
for my children to ride bikes,
my husband and I to walk the dog
even in the waning light.
But each spring, I find shattered
blue eggshells scattered
along sidewalks, and in the yards
new grass shoots
up around a smattering of dead
rodents, mangled bones of birds.
I wonder what the robin
who sits high on the power
line thinks of this place, rampant
with baby-snatching squirrels,
murderous cats on the prowl,
even of a pair of vultures who appear
to pick apart fresh meat. How long
‘til his song becomes a world-weary
wail, lament for a neighborhood
gone to seed?
13 thoughts on "Perspective"
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Nailed it! Love this poem, how you get inside the head of that robin. Marvelous.
This poem reads perfectly. The details of your descriptions are great — “mangled bones of birds” and “baby-snatching squirrels.”
Really smooth flow to this one, the shift in perspective is effortless.
Thoughtful, ominous.
St. Francis amount of empathy in this poem
Aww, this is a great compliment. St. Francis is my favorite. I love his love for animals.
Well executed ponder.
Your poem is !
Great. I guess their world has given them a different perspective.
Chelsie, this is so beautiful. Perspective is absolutely everything. I enjoyed the robin’s perspective and how you described it, even though dreadful and viewing of catastrophe. “baby-snatching squirrels.” And. The powerful ending,
“How long
‘til his song becomes a world-weary
wail, lament for a neighborhood
gone to seed?”
Heavy and understood. So creative.
Exquisite!
Terrific exploration. The title works on so many levels.
A powerful piece of work here, Chelsie.
This is so well done – particularly the descriptions of the “low-lifes” in the neighborhood.