One sunlit eve of early spring, before the falling of the dew
I chanced upon last summer, nestled still in the raspberry thicket.
Woven weed stems, once green, now bleached and fragile as dust
Yet still clinging through wind and rain, snow and thunder.
An instinct-driven creation screaming with the power of life
miraculous in its construction
and now so deathly still, a skeleton moved only by the breeze.
The old nest will rot away in spring rains and summer sun
falling to the duff below, becoming soil itself on woodland edge
to fuel the grasses, raspberry stems, sumac twigs
of a thousand nesting seasons to come.
Each note of field sparrow song drifting above the meadow
a tribute to the summers of the past.
I chanced upon last summer, nestled still in the raspberry thicket.
Woven weed stems, once green, now bleached and fragile as dust
Yet still clinging through wind and rain, snow and thunder.
An instinct-driven creation screaming with the power of life
miraculous in its construction
and now so deathly still, a skeleton moved only by the breeze.
The old nest will rot away in spring rains and summer sun
falling to the duff below, becoming soil itself on woodland edge
to fuel the grasses, raspberry stems, sumac twigs
of a thousand nesting seasons to come.
Each note of field sparrow song drifting above the meadow
a tribute to the summers of the past.
3 comments:
The toad peels its skin
Over its head like a shirt
Eats it, hops forward.
There's a road I drive on sometimes that has a yard with a bush right by the side of the road. I'd never noticed this bush before, but I noticed it recently when I realized that it was bare of leaves and nestled right in the middle of the bush was a nest that I believe to be a robin's.
Your poem got me thinking about that nest, and wondering-- do birds care what happens to their nests? I know some birds come back from season to season, like the heron rookery in Southwestern Vermont that I visit from time to time, on open marsh waters right off the side of rte. 7, where the great blue birds construct and rebuild complex giant nests in tall dead trees, and how last year the major storm waters blew down some of those nets (as well as one of the trees).
Will they come back again? Will they abandon the nests for a better (or safer) location? Will they rebuild or just work with smaller nests? I guess I will learn soon enough-- we check often enough in the Spring.
What do these nests mean to the herons?
What affects whether or not they return?
I was wondering if you could join a cool forum. I see you like animals. Try taking a look at this forum: http://z3.invisionfree.com/Animals101/index.php?act=idx
Thanks for your consideration!
Post a Comment