Nests of Seasons Passed

In the trees, high up catching every breeze small twigs, dry grass, and leaves form the large drey, with stuffing from some cushioned chair pretended to be hay; atop the forked trunks of mighty oaks a perch of squirrels gather against wintry pokes. Encircling the trees in playful chase each independent life seek security and escape, built-in a day, the nest is snug and tight protecting the gray creature from windy flight, fallen remnants of last year's nests lay on the ground, a dispersed mess as new ones soon replace the error of past mistakes; but now and then, a familiar little face peers in the window at the wall seeking the warm within. Craig Cornish Last Year's Nests 11/23/19