Nest Building

A soft brown wren pecks for tiny seeds

strewn from yesterday’s weeding.

On closer look I see

she collects not seeds but tiny dried grass –

slight as a thought.

A beak full of bristling grass,

mustachioed she tilts her head,

making me laugh.

Then she lifts off, flies west toward home

to line her silky nest.

April 24, 2011