The Unlikely Honor of Not Paying Attention

 

The Unlikely Honor of Not Paying Attention

Who would have thought my absent-mindedness
would be a fortress for three unfeathered baby robins,
safe enough to perch on the cornice of their nest.

Someday they will go on, telling their schoolmates a giant
once sat quietly beneath them holding a twig
that could leave black scratches on blank pages,

letting the smoke out of his mouth rise up like fog from a river,
how the giant became their guardian, keeping predators away.
Who would have thought their squatting on my porch

would lead to legends about an enormous creature
who did not notice their droppings on his shoulder, that chirping
as softly as they did, would have a poem be only about them?