In the eye, children run outside to study the fallen branches
like old seers gasping over their prophetic throw of bones.
Parents squint at their roofs – scowl over missing shingles –
while the cul-de-sac’s oldest boy shouts I found a bird’s nest!
Every other child rushes the nest, and all go silent
when the cracked eggs do not yield soft, yellow protein.
Three slimy chicks reflect their bulging eyes and protruding bones:
features the oldest boy realizes he is still growing out of.
He saunters to his disgruntled father, looks up at a dangling gutter
and understands what adults like:
things that cannot give birth.