A brown cardinal babynestled in the crookof our back porch trumpet vineinvisible until her big red dad returnedagain and againbearing grubs to nourishand maybe sootheafter her important launch. Later in Targeta mom scouring aislesher own fledgling just new in a dormthe store shelvesbare of what she really sought:Comfort. Love.Courage for a newly flown almost-manHis deepeningContinue reading “Fledglings”
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Stacey Murphy __ Poems 