Two weeks of warm, squashy, beating-heart silence,
trapped in an ever-shrinking space, unable to stand or stretch,
until finally I figure out what that egg tooth is for,
peck-peck-pecking until CRACK, the light pours in,
the blue sky winks through veiling green leaves, Continue reading
A still pool of rainwater,
Kissed by garnet and citrine maple leaves,
Reflects the cool Autumn sunshine.
A bluejay shakes his wings,
Scattering crystal gems of water.
Wild turkeys gather fallen seeds below;
Their plumage blends into the
Brown, rust and orange leaves.
A juvenile robin dips a toe and shivers.
The damp smell of wet leaves
Rises into the warming day,
Mingling with the scent of cedar and pine.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
What do you see?
I imagined a baby robin eating his first worm. I looked up baby robins, and I learned they are born with an egg tooth that disappears. They have no feathers, and their eyes are closed until at least three days pass. After three days, the primary feather sheaths begin to poke through the skin. I wonder if that hurts like when a baby teethes.
Copyright 2014 Brenda Davis Harsham
Notes: A visual haiku is a photograph that implies the presence of something not there. For other visual haiku, click here, here and here.
References:
Cornell Lab’s American Robin
Messinger Woods Guide to Development of a Baby Bird
Baby Robins in the Nest
The kiss of the sun for pardon,
the song of the birds for mirth,
one is nearer God’s Heart in a garden
than anywhere else on earth.
Far up a hill in Edinburgh City are acres of garden.
I headed up one sunshiny day
escaping the din of castles, pubs and tourists.
Tranquility was far from me,
my mind too busy, too full of deadlines.
Friendly Fairy Tales 