Welcome to Poetry Friday! Michelle has the roundup today here where she is celebrating May birthdays, including her own. Be sure to stop by for lots of poetry goodness.
Recently I wrote a Poetry Friday post about finding a white and brown spotted egg in one of my bluebird nesting boxes, along with four bluebird eggs. I am sad to report that things didn’t work out well. More tragic was the news this week of the passing of poet and children’s author, Katey Howes. I feel these two events are related somehow. Katey will be missed by many in more ways than I can count, but especially by her family. This post is dedicated to them.
I felt a haibun would be an appropriate form. A haibun is a combination of prose and poetry. It begins with a narrative or personal passage that describes an experience, a scene, or a memory. It concludes with a haiku that acts as a snapshot of the prose passage.
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Researchers report that bluebirds can come to know the faces of their caregivers as well as recognize their voices. I remembered this when I started noticing Fred, my male bluebird, perched on the patio chair each morning. Sometimes I’d see him sitting on a low tree branch or the roof of the nest box. This behavior was not unusual, except that Fred didn’t seem in a hurry to leave as I approached and addressed him in a soft voice. After a few days, I realized I hadn’t seen Ginger (his mate) lately.
I wondered.
I hoped.
I checked the nest box.
Inside I found only two bluebird eggs. The others, including the odd spotted one, were on the ground, under the hydrangea bush. I took a deep breath, then placed my fingers on the two remaining eggs.
Cold.
I believe something happened to Ginger and that Fred was trying to tell me of this loss. I mourn with him, and for all who have lost precious family members.
bluebird sings alone
his grief as wide as the sky
healing broken hearts
Imagine the Possibilities 
Rose, this is so tragic. I feel like I know Fred and Ginger personally. I do believe that they communicate with you, and that your kind voice brought Fred some peace. So sorry for both Fred and you.
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Thank you!
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I wonder what happened? Thanks for sharing an update with this commemorative post.
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I’m not sure. Could have been predators or any number of things. Sometimes it’s hard to let nature take its course.
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Who knew the tiny heart within the bluebird could sing a gift of both grief and healing…a perfect poem (and form) for sharing your heartache, Rose. Sending hugs. xoxo
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Thanks, Patricia.
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Grief as wide as the sky… such a beautiful and achingly true line. Lovely tribute to your bluebird friends and your poet friend.
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Thanks, Diane.
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Thank you for sharing this. The heartbreak of watching your bluebird mourn his mate is expressed so beautifully. And the overwhelming emotions of Katey’s passing (who I only communicated with online–but felt like she was a friend, and had talked about getting together when she visited her parents. I think Katey had a way of making many kidlit folks feel like they were close friends.)
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That is so true about Katey, Buffy. From the moment I (or anyone, really) met her it felt like we had been friends for a long time. And she never forgot!
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Oh, Rose, I’m so sorry for all the losses–Fred the bluebird, the chicks that won’t be, and of course, most of all, Katey Howes’ family. Peace and comfort to all who loved her and appreciated her work.
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Thank you, Denise.
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I do believe that we humans don’t really understand that other animals communicate. If only we noticed, as you’ve shown you are doing, Rose. A close noticing can show a story, like your relationship with Fred and Ginger, the bluebirds. It’s a poignant story you’ve shared, with the haibun. Like Mary Oliver says, “Pay attention. . . !” And, so sorry this week to read about Katey Howes, especially for all of you who knew her and her family.
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Thanks, Linda.
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What a beautiful haibun. Big hugs to you as you mourn the loss of Katey.
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Thanks, Marcie.
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Heartfelt tribute post rose. I saw an exhibit at he Field Museum in Chicago about a year ago that was on death and dying and had a section on animals and their emotions when another animal was sick or had died, they are definitely there and feeling that loss. Thanks for sharing all!
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Thank you, Michelle. I don’t know that we truly understand the depth of emotion animals feel but I do believe it’s there.
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What a lovely, lovely tribute. I felt each word deeply. And, I am sad. Your poem carries my sadness so lovingly. Thank you.
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Appreciate your thoughts, Linda.
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Oh, my heart. That first line of your haiku is so poignant. And at first I pushed back against the third line, but I see it now — we heal through song, and memory, and community.
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Thank you, Mary Lee, that’s what I was going for. As I look back, I think I might change the last line to “healing heavy hearts” to make it more alliterative.
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Spot on, both for the alliteration and to contrast the lightness and flight of the bluebird and his song.
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Rose, your post brings me to tears this morning in both its beauty and its compassion. I’ve been thinking all week of the idea of the fall of a sparrow and how every loss is counted. Every loss matters. The loss of Katey has loomed large in my heart. And the loss of Ginger…A friend lost her college-age daughter suddenly and tragically a few years ago, and she has always been so intentional about the idea that her grief doesn’t make other people’s smaller (my words, not hers) griefs less. Every grief, every loss, matters. Hugs to you and of course to Katey’s family and friends. I only met her in person a couple of times and in the online world, but I can’t believe she’s no longer with us.
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Oh, Ginger. Oh, Katey. I’m so sorry for Fred, you, Katey’s family and the world to have lost such goodness – human and bird alike. Your poem captures the grief of this moment eloquently, Rose. *hugs*
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Such a sad story. The world is indeed a hazardous place. This week I saw two broken robin’s eggs in the grass and wondered how they got there. It’s important that there are those around who sadly notice.
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