To weave a nest.
She fusses and checks.
It must be perfect.
The time comes,
It is just right.
She moves in
And proudly lays her clutch of eggs.
She keeps them warm,
Stays with them
Protects them.
He flies back and forth
Finding food for him and her.
Then they hatch.
What a proud and noisy moment!
Demanding mouths
Are full-time work.
The ferocity of their protection belies their tiny size.
And predators soon learn
To give that nest a miss.
The time comes for the nestlings to learn to fly.
Diligent parents coax and teach.
More dangers.
Oops, Just missed the cat!
Soon their wings are strong,
Their flight sure.
It is time to leave the nest.
Away they soar.
Next spring
The little birds will lay new eggs.
We won’t.
Our nest will be empty.
SHARON HEANEY STANSFIELD
See other poems by Sharon