Written for these eggs, this Robin, this nest...
I see four eggs. I dream, along with Momma, of soon four hatchlings, four chicks, four birds, four first flights... A well-built nest - Soft. Round. Sturdy but cushioned. Threaded, woven, balanced, and careworn. At the level of my heart. Four chicks will grow to know the world, utterly surrounded by the heaven scent of Wisteriaroma. A loving mom. Patient. Attentive. Defender of a homemade home. Present. Dare-I-say loving? This first nest appearing here this Spring. I watch momma every day. She watches me. She watches her dreams there under her warming breast. I know it's their first time here. And yet, and yet to me somehow it's all a memory. Of what might've been. Of what wasn't. I cry for her, happily. I cry for me, less so.
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