Tucked in the crux of an old maple limb
A little brown cup built of mud and twigs,
Its only décor, little bits of string
Plucked from the grass or a wild-flower sprig
The little nest waits for the odes of Spring
And mother robin to come home again
Soon its dirt palm will be jeweled with blue
Though now an ice chamber for snowflakes to hide
Nature will smile; their dazzling rendezvous
Melting away beneath spring’s welcome tide
Fear not little robin; your nest still a-waits
For springtime to garnish its rusty old gates
Tucked in the crux of an old maple tree
The little brown cup weathers winter’s stiff gale
It has endured many a malady
And soon the threat of their boasting will pale
Then it will be filled with wee birdies to sing
Cheer-a-lee, cheer-a-lee to this wee nest and Spring
Janet~
We can only see this nest in the winter. It is concealed by leaves in every other season, but as autumn strips the tree bare we see...it is still there!
Janet this is such a sweet and beautiful poem....I love it! Hope all is going well for you...have a great weekend! :-)
ReplyDeleteI wonder though if robins reuse their nests another year....or if they build a new next every year. Do you know?
ReplyDeleteThank-you Carrie...I am down to the last few chores for the week...folding laundry and washing some dishes after food prep for the week-end. We are 'enjoying' a mild blizzard:)
ReplyDeleteI wish you a great week-end as well!
Mary, robins do NOT re-use their nests..I find that interesting...they may rebuild in the same spot over an old nest but they do not re-use an old nest! I thought they did! Oh well...I guess its the same tree, different nest!
ReplyDeleteHome is where heart is:). This world too is like a nest, we arrive, live our life and then leave.
ReplyDeleteV~ such great imagery in your comment. Thank-you:)
ReplyDelete