Ode to the Cuckoo

I wondered if the cuckoo had ever thought of the hurt that their offspring could endure, at the whim (and wing) of another bird; or whether, perhaps, the bird could ever long for the voice of their mother, that they knew they never could know. Though this poem addresses the mother, in many respects it's a love letter to the child.

Had you ever another thought

about the displacement of your brood-

had you ever to think

of the heartbreak

that could occur

in such a fragile chest,

such a little bird

and left alone

to flitter

flutter

an unrequited love

for the mother

that never laid to nest

but in the hearts and minds

of all your future kin