One long and bitter April night
A strong Nor’easter blew
Encompassing in all its might
The town of Richelieu
The drifts were high, yet hard to see
As snow swirled ‘round and ‘round
Yet, nestled ‘neath the old oak tree
A bright fledgling was found.

The tiny bird; a dove perchance
Had fallen from the nest
A victim of a circumstance
That nature viewed as best
By calling out a chosen one
Whose wings had never grown
And leaving him, when day was done
To brave the cold, alone.

The fledgling, though, had proven brave
Despite his meager state
He was not ready for the grave
And chose to fight his fate
He walked and stumbled through the snow
Amassing means to cope
Then, with twigs, grass, and leaves in tow
He built his fort of hope.

As morning rose, the fledgling smiled
For sunlight had returned
To warm the home he had compiled
Thanks to lessons he learned
Before his tumble from the nest
When life was still and calm –
Wisdom that left him ever blessed
Thanks to his caring Mom.

© 2006 – Jill Eisnaugle’s Poetry Collection