My aging parents feed all the birds
the turkeys
the deer
the squirrels
the rabbits.
Dutifully filling the feeders
and when that is not enough—sheet pans,
pouring out cracked corn or birdseed.
Today while swimming with my boys at their pool,
we watch as two adult Sandhill Cranes
and their young colt
walk up out of the lowlands and
stand at the feeders on the ground.
Why have they come? These birds
that remind me of my dead brother,
bringing along their baby
so I can see them all together.
I don’t know this then,
but they’ll stay all summer
their baby growing taller,
almost a fixture in my parents’ yard
until one day they depart
migrating south for winter.
