Last Years Nests

LAST YEAR’S NESTS When fall reluctantly lets go of the last wind-battered leaves Coquettishly revealing its crunchy, bitter nakedness I like to peer deeply inside each stiff and prickly carcass Seeking out last year’s abandoned nests, and the stories each tells. I am amazed at the range of societal class I find Some nests adorned with tinsel and feathers, colorful and soft, Others woven with intricate designs for strength and shelter, Finally, some are basic, just sticks and leaves, soon to crumble. I feel kindred to these birds who have lived lives and flown away Who have worked to raise their baby birds through all earthly hazards Then watched as they flew away, ready to build their own nests now And been left with empty nests that remind them of better times. At home, I gently place my precious cargo of last year’s nests Alongside my collection from years past, admiring them all, Wondering if when I fly away, my nest will be studied. Will someone notice the house built to hold my happy children? Will they smile at scratches on the door frames from the pets we loved? I hope that when entering my last year’s nest, someone sees love, They see some tinsel and feathers that made me feel fancy, rich, And some designs that I have woven for more practical use, To keep my baby birds safe when the winds outside howled and stormed. But mostly they will find in my last year’s nest, well-used items Loved for a time by family and then retired, like myself. November 14, 2019