The Empty Nest Poem by John F. McCullagh

The wind is raw, a sleeting rain
Has covered everything in ice..
It coats an inch of killing snow.
Take it slow is good advice.

I clear my walkway of the slush
And pause to view my little tree
It is a dwarf non-fruiting Pear.
I had the City plant for me.

In its bare branches is a nest,
An impressive edifice of sticks
Abandoned now for sweeter climes
In Spring a nesting pair raised chicks.

I long to hear their call once more
They used to wake me at first light
But soon their chicks had taken flight
And all was silent as the night.

Do nesting pairs feel sadness when
Their little ones have fled the nest?
They never call, they cannot write.
I’m guessing that it’s hard, at best.

In spring will come another pair
to nest within my little tree.
Once more I’ll be awakened by
that timeless avian symphony.