The path by the river
The chalk words, “Mom, come home,” have faded from the sidewalk, and the tents have slunk,
along with the coyotes, back to the wash. We talk about their new baby. Having our own. The
past. Your muscles tense, you breathe erratically, and I am too tired to fix your sad eyes.
A chirp breaks everything. A hummingbird baby sits on the ground, calling for its mother. It
cannot fly or escape the cats that will begin their hunts soon. I climb down the embankment and
scoop up the tiny thing with a leaf. Its heart thrums against my palm. You point to the most level,
protected nook. I stretch to the tips of my toes and gently place the baby bird as high up as I can
reach.
Perhaps it fell. Perhaps I did a bad thing. But I took your hand, and, perhaps, I was what you
needed again.
Sophia McGovern is a writer and mother based in Tempe, Arizona. She weaves fibers, mixed media, and words into her creative practice, alongside motherhood. She founded Little Somethings Press, which publishes short prose and poetry in handmade books. Her work has been supported by the Arizona Commission on the Arts, the City of Tempe, and the Mesa Arts Center, and has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and Best of the Net. She’s been published in Motherlore Magazine, Fiction Attic Press, Folklore Review, and elsewhere.
