When Jane’s children left she expected to mourn. Motherhood had been her chosen vocation. Come spring robins delivered a revelation. Jane heard them before she saw them, a nest full of open mouths, demanding. Their mother nervously tried to appease. From ground to nest, from nest to ground she flitted, worm after worm delivered. Jane remembered days like that, every move aimed to assuage another’s insistent hunger. She smiled. She did not envy that robin. She pushed her canoe into the lake, paddling in a direction she could change at will, without explanation to little mouths open and wanting.
Barrier Island Blues 