I Grew up in a Rookery

Ingrid is the host for Poetics at the d’Verse Poet’s Pub. She asks us to take inspiration from birds of the corvid family. I immediately thought of family card nights. My father’s parents were avid Rook players, and eventually, we all got in on the game. Fun times on a Friday night. In case you don’t know about this game, I’ve linked a brief explanation here. I may be a while flying by all the great responses, but I’ll glide over tomorrow if I don’t get by tonight. Join us in an aviary exploration.

I grew up in a rookery,

jovial den of card playing,

bill fondling,

and side-shufflin’.

The real skill was

having the bird at the deal,

or convincing the building

your bluff was real.

How many tricks for you?

How many tricks flew

‘fore mating season was through?

A single caw from maw and

she takes the nest,

pair bonds strong she calls

I got the rest!”

Chairs slid amid grumphs,

from the uncles and the aunts.

Storytelling is the law

when you grow up in the

Rook bird’s claw.

© 2022 | K.Hartless


  1. This is absolutely lovely work done, K! 😀 Yes, the real challenge is convincing the other that your bluff is real ❤️❤️

    Liked by 1 person

  2. Love this, K.Hartless! “bill fondling” and “side-shufflin’.” 😀 I so enjoyed all your descriptions, the rhyme, the quick jump from moment to moment and the way it ends, wonderful ❤

    Liked by 1 person

    • Oh wonderful. Yes, I’d like to teach my children when they’re older, but there’s no way to bring back these mountain nights. The river roaring outside covered up by the family totally immersed in their card game. It was a big honor to finally be able to play at that table.

      Liked by 1 person

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