Sorting by

Skip to main content

Once, before children, my wife
and I took a nest of fledglings
to a woman who rehabbed wildlife.
I remember the “No” that creased
her face when asked if we could see
more, but then she went inside
and brought out two nighthawks.

One ate mealworms willingly,
the other only if force-fed.
I remember that something gathered
in the tar-drip eyes of the latter,
a learning that the hand that held
and made meant good.

Photo by Serafima Lazarenko on Unsplash

Ellis Purdie

Ellis Purdie is a graduate of The Center for Writers at The University of Southern Mississippi. Previous work has appeared in RivetedVita PoeticaRed Rock ReviewHeart of Flesh Literary Journal, and others.  He lives with his family and teaches in east Texas, where he is often searching for herpetofauna or other wildlife.