SOMETIME LITTLE BIRDS FALL OUT OF THEIR NESTS

We brought another little bird under our wing
and changed our world again.

As we buried his mother and moved his home we
consider how fortunate we have been.
Some neighbors eye us strangely as we sit among the friends and family
of a woman we hardly knew.

Strangers look upon us with curious eyes and hopeful tears.
A young boy reflects on how plastic his mother’s face seems
stiff and silent; not at all as she was in life.

Honor guard rifles blast as solemn tears leak and stuffy noses blow.
In the cemetery the rolling hills and lush green lawns offer peace to those that can walk it.
A little boy stares in disbelief and stunned, unattached aloneness.

Hugs and back pats seem empty as his mother’s casket sits sealed and solitary.
The boy glances back yet moves swiftly out of the chapel. The cars start and wait respectfully as the mourners pile in.

We drive back to the funeral home pick up our new son and drive strangely out to lunch.
The boy is easy as his regular smile and good-natured charm shine through. Will he suddenly be crushed by the weight of realization? Is his grief so personal that it has no outward expression? We simply do not know. He is a stranger to us; as we must seem strange to him.

The will of God is mighty and when we bow to it we succeed. We buried a young boy’s mother today and he has become our own.

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