Lost Summer Song Poem by Noreen Carden

A very poignant tale, so well crafted. Nature can sometimes seem so cruel, Noreen. I look forward each year to see the swallows come back. After them flying thousands of miles to last year's nesting site one of them will sometimes (very rarely) die. Very sad! Well worth waiting for, Noreen.

This is so very beautiful and something as a human I can relate to in full. Wonderful.

Well penned, Wes! Good Job Panagiota Romios

I surrendered completely to the sentiments of this poem. The dimensions of the tragedy it records may be small but they are R-E-A-L. I experienced a parallel story this past June. A pair of finches built a nest on my balcony in late May and I had to share the balcony with them. The male was very insistent. But a larger bird attacked the nest one weekend I was out of town, because the female was dead in the nest and the eggs pillaged. The male flew in wide circles over my balcony and perched on the railing for over a week. Then he disappeared. I have not found the words to express my version of our common story. I applaud you for being able to tell yours. The birds deserve our lament. Do you know Walt Whitman's OUT OF THE CRADLE ROCKING ENDLESSLY. Look for it. It tells our story with the fullness of his stunning poetic genius. Delius set it to music as SEA DRIFT, a work of heart breaking loveliness.

I have a great sentence I could leave to try to get a laugh, BUT I know this is not appropriate. even bri knows THAT! a well told tale of loss among Nature’s creatures. my favorite lines: “She being shy hid beneath my fuchsia while he scratched in the clay by my feet carrying treats for her in his yellow beak” AND: “An eerie silence fell upon my patch. His trilling voice extinguished” to MyPoemList. bri :) and thanks for the poet's notes.

Such a beautiful poem Noreen, your a talented lady.

Wow, what a wonderful expression of poignant thoughts! Very sad indeed. I had a somewhat similar experience last Summer. A black bulbul bird laid three small, speckled eggs in the money plant tub hanging in my balcony. I used to watch the little bird come and hatch the eggs. Unaware, one day my servant watered the tub in a routine chore. Thereafter, the eggs remained there, but the bird flew no more. I felt so sorry and guilty! The title of your poem is aptly a precursor to the poem. 'His trilling voice extinguished his broken heart forever stilled.' - The title gives a hint of this. 'And four blue speckled eggs that now will never hatch' - What a pity! And thanks for the Poet's Notes.