Blackbird’s Return

A song of spring, a song of sorrow…

Illustration by author.

It was a bright morning in springtime when your father sailed away from me. I ran to the headland out in the bay and watched the boat leave, just stood there, didn’t wave or nothing. The crew was rushing about the deck like ants, but I saw a man standing at the stern, looking back to shore. It was too far to see anything but a shape, maybe it was your father saying his goodbyes, maybe some…