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Yellow pieces of weed eater line..
Red tattered piece of old shop rag..
Blue traces of a worn out old tarp..
White shredded remnants of a plastic bag..

I watched you from the early spring,
doing your ritual gathering,
of unwanted things, just laying around
but, to you they were treasures, surely found

Among dry meadow grass and scattered twigs,
you poked and pulled and tugged and weaved.
Then you tucked bits here and there,
of stuffing you sneaked from my old lawn chair.

Creating your masterpiece before my eyes,
the fanciest bird nest around.
You flew back and forth a million times,
while chirpping and singing away..
never complaining you worked all day.

Then babies came, all fuzzy and small,
you worked so hard to feed them all,
until they grew their beautiful wings.
and began singing their own song

And when they left you one by one..
you sang to me once again
then simply flew away.

Your wonderful nest built with such care
with colorful decorations added for flair
now rests in a basket, by my chair.....


©Donna Jones
Seeing Beauty In Imperfection
12-3-2013

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