Bird’s Nest
by C.S. Scotkin
Another porch…
potted impatiens
from brass hooks
cascade pastel
hues of dawn.
Shh, hear them
in the middle,
that purple one.
Gray dove still,
belies her fear,
three down chicks
now motionless,
she does not leave.
Shh…meet her
mother eyes.
She will not leave.
This cradle chosen
so close to my door
wakens new
awareness, Shh!
Close quietly,
whisper respect.
She knows me now,
I am no threat.
Her babes grow
quickly, her care
flags not once.
She sits, eyes meet
once more, shh…
our trust complete.
I reach out
warm feathers
beating heart…
mother’s heart…
like mine.
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