A Poem by Paula Weld-Cary

Forward Motion

 

As I walk through springtime woods,

I cup my ear to a thicket

And hear the half notes of young birds

Scattered through the trees,

All the murmuring from nests:

 

I will see, I will sing, I will fly

 

Midway up a cherry tree,

I find three newly-hatched robins

And return to them each day

To watch  their feathers unfurl

Their wings unfold, their bodies stretch,

To watch them preen, flutter, spill from the nest

As I contemplate the beauty of forward motion.

 

 

 

Paula Weld-Cary’s poetry has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and has appeared in many journals such as Nimrod, Slab, Main Street Rag, Atlanta Review, Southern Humanities Review, Portland Review, and Cream City Review. She lives and writes in Rochester, New York.