Baby Blackbird

A froth of pink and blonde
Tangled in the branches
Of the still sleeping tree
Your crystalline steel blue eyes
Cast upward in earnest
As you try to climb closer to the elusive
Winged magician that has captured your
Attention in this moment.

Squealing with delight I send for the camera
To immortalize this living, loving memory
Remembering the bits and pieces of another memory
Constructed in my mind only by the words
Of the story told to me over and over again.
A verbal snapshot of my own childhood
And a stranded sister stuck up a tree.

But, you are anything but stuck
Carefully retracing the fuzzy, gem encrusted slippers
Back down the rough whorl encrusted trunk
To collect the beautiful singing bird toy
That could be the baby of the Momma you seek.
You lift your gentle hands skyward
And show off your prized possession
Only to watch her fly off to a higher tree.

My little adventurer.
My dreamer.
You live so openly.
Believing the bird will come to see you.
Keep believing my little one,
That the world will respond in kind to your advances.
And you, too, will fly higher and higher.