Gifted to my daughter by her doting father.
But for some reason I kept their shoes.
Now their distant cousins—toys spilled from containers,
Trash tossed into waterways—are being gifted
By Laysan Albartross fathers to their fledglings
in place of crabs, fish, mussels.
The small birds slowly die of starvation
In their softly feathered nests.
Ours is a difficult world
When grief is the same as love.