Larry Bradfield Poet Sonnet

Last Year's Nests

Last year's nests lie there broken at my feet
as I recall when they were full last Spring
with gaping mouths to be the first to eat
and bird brains guessing what mama would bring.
Last year's nests seem good as any other
to mark the time that marched so quickly past
while we  pondered who was foe,  who brother,
in this rush to be first - at least not last.
Last year's nests turn to dust before my eyes
and await the new rain that will wash them
Hell bent to where the blue Pacific lies -
sadly their memory is growing dim.
It stands as true that nests have come and gone
while the warblers sing that they still live on.


11-5-19
Contest: Last Year's Nest
Sponsor: Craig Cornish

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