Fledgling AttachmentA Poem by Chris Shaw(Holiday Observations from the terraced heights. Die or fly, which was it)
When I was gone from Brixham
thoughts of mine would take flight, gather speed and without the slightest effort, wing their way back to the last days of June. I found myself focusing on a view, five counties to the west of home, on a weathered, weed ridden roof stack, high in the terraced heights, looking down on an historic town. There a pair of sea gulls had invested their time, building a nest in a spot between two of five chimney pots, caked in guano, bleached white and baked hard by sun's burn. From a balcony I had watched two chicks receive nurture, pitifully one fell out of bed to tumble helplessly into guttering. The parents, all a flutter tried their best to coax their fledgling back to the safety of its nest, to no avail. When we left, the chick was frail, his plight uncertain and I wondered whether he would fly or die. Succumb to starvation or exhaustion. Three months later, I have returned. No trace of gulls, while the recent heavy rain, has washed all that remained, complete with caked guano, clean away. I came to the conclusion that finding a solution has reached a dead end. © 2019 Chris ShawAuthor's Note
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Added on October 8, 2019Last Updated on October 13, 2019 AuthorChris ShawBerkshire, United KingdomAboutAlbert, my paternal grandfather introduced me to Tennyson when I was nine. I have loved poetry ever since but did not attempt writing a single piece until I was 40. It's never too late to try somethin.. more..Writing
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