Here you are again, on the chain-link fence.
It’s the same every day as I pass by
heading home—you perched there.
Are you waiting for someone?
Do you, like me, wonder what’s next?
I’m often on the fence. Each day
I pray for success for my six children.
I can’t rest until they’re on their own,
thriving. My wife is the same.
We keep our eyes on hope.
Blackbird, you neither sow nor reap,
nor gather into barns. Do you question,
each day, how you will feed your family?
People urge me to write a will.
It’s inevitable, but I feel responsible
and want to be here for them. I still talk
to my parents and am pretty sure they listen.
I don’t know if you, blackbird, contemplate
these things each day like me.
I’ll swing by again tomorrow.