The flickers are gone.
Suddenly, yesterday morning,
the nest was quiet, the hole they peeked from,
empty.
We thought a couple times
we heard them, far away,
the children calling still
to beg for food,
And the adult cries, too,
may well belong to them.
We hoped to see them fledge,
we hoped to watch that triumph,
We hoped to see them hover
close to home.
But they have flown.
We feel the hollow —
Stand-in for our own.

©Wendy Mulhern
July 2, 2014