A pre-Valentines Day Poem

with thanks to Deborah Woodard for this link – Nigel the bird

 

gannet

 

Yet, never, in extremity

(thinking of poor Nigel, the loneliest gannet, for DW)

 

To lure the lovely
gannet birds to nest
on desolate Mana Island,
some inventive scientists
created a whole colony
of concrete gannets,
happy, bright, inanimate.

Nigel, the only one
of his kind to be swayed
by the statue deception,
stayed his entire life
beside one particular decoy,
constant, loyal, enamored.

He groomed her cold
rigid feathers, feathered
her a fine nest.
Year, after futile year,
Nigel perched near
his lifeless love.

And when new gannets
finally arrived on the island
females, alive,
and ready to mate,
Nigel, paid no attention.
He died all alone
alongside his adored decoy.

Is love an illusion
or what we choose
to make of it,
when the beloved
has nothing to give
and the lover,
everything?

What would Nigel advise
the rest of us do when our
passions go unreciprocated?
Truly, I believe he would
quote that Dickinson poem,
you know the one,
with feathers and hope.

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *