The closest I've come to Empty Nest Syndrome (Day 11)

Where the birds come
to catch their breath,
that's where Iive
-on the top floor

A time ago, I raised pigeons
generations of feathered friends,
watered and fed in a large flower pot
on my balcony, where one laid an egg

As they grew, I'd watch them scan the skies
—for crows, hawks, falcons— and I'd think
of the inescapable vulnerability
of all who live beneath that tent of blue...

My winged companions have all flown away,
at Home, perched somewhere in the vast sky
from where I borrowed them for a time
now, it is my turn to scan the heavens

In hopes of their return, or
in search of some kind of sign?

© Yahia Lababidi

(Images & collage: mine)