For a few summers now, finches have laid
eggs on my back porch. The handlebar bag
of my daughter's bike (unused -- she drives now)
is the perfect nesting place. Cool, hidden,
snug. In early June, eggs appear -- spotted, 
small, earthy, & safe. Soon enough, they hatch,
and I watch from the living room. Mama
bird coming & going, feeding, flying
away. Taking my dog out, I alarm
the hatchlings, who stop singing and shrink back
as one, hoping & waiting together,
an animal fear that I cannot calm.
At night, I pay my penance, leaving mounds
of seed, food the babies cannot yet eat, 
offerings I hope the squirrels will not find.
I never see them take wing, but sooner 
than I would have expected, they are gone, 
on their own time, and of course, finches flock. 
A group of finches is known as a "charm". 
This charm of my home will discover soon
the world is wide enough for their first flight.

For my daughter, for her freshman year at college.