Doomscroll

A swift gust knocks a nest
Clean through a ledge’s gap
Where it was snugly wedged--

Not snug enough, turns out.
One unfledged chick was left
To tumble on the lawn,

Parents away at work,
Species unknown, maybe
Another brand of finch.

An hour in sun and wind
As strong as this would have
Finished it, but the cat

Saw manna from heaven
And snatched it in its mouth
And headed for the house.

Rescued from quicker death,
The chick waits in a box
Comfortable, doted on,

So far eating nothing,
Probably not for long.
A complete history

Stays always beyond us,
Would be all that’s happened.
That’s never happened yet.