The Nest

 

 

Is it really any different

than swallows making a nest?

 

the huge life altering decisions

made in a heartbeat

as well as the insignificant ones

that we pondered forever

 

straw intertwined in the unique

way that reflects the two of us

 

our life is mostly made of

little things like tea in the morning

stereotypical me reading the paper

stereotypical her reading a book

 

with a backdrop of hummingbirds

buzzing to and from the feeders,

neighbors mowing their lawns

sprinklers on Sunday and Thursday

 

Some encounters we’ve had

bring floods of imagery

no one else would know

 

just saying someone’s name

might bring a laugh or shudder

about someone once so big

that no one else would know

 

the nest stood strong

through wind and storm

and at times

parts of it blew away

to be patched in a new way

 

and the things…

stories in everything

a lot of stuff much more than stuff

but no one else would ever know

 

There’s plastic fruit in a glass container

in the entry to our house that was my mother’s

and she’s who I see when I look at it

 

There is art and clothes and plants

in which we each see the other

that richly fills our space

 

A house, garden and life

that are pieces of straw

uniquely put together

in such a way that

only the two of us

could ever

have done.