Fledglings

God knows the sorrow of the birds
for fledglings fallen from the nest,
the song that no more will be heard,
the empty place beneath the breast.

He saw the sparrow as it fell
and watched it growing cold in death
who wrapped it first within the shell
and counted every quickbeat breath.

And every year, of years on years,
he watches hatchlings fledge and fall;
no note is doubled to his ear,
no feather copied—firstlings, all.

And every sorrow of the heart,
and every nest bereft and bare,
alone stands naked in his dark
as one whole world beyond compare.

What is the weight of sparrowkind
in gravity's relentless pull?
A world ends in disrupted flight,
and still he carries each in full.

And for each one, a nest he builds
where sparrows rise up, ever spring:
his hands, with myriad feathers filled,
where nestlings fly and ever sing.

Song sparrow (Melospiza melodia) By Cephas – Own work, CC BY-SA 4.0, https://commons.wikimedia.org/w/index.php?curid=107680551