Wren Returns
She slips in
beneath the well-protected opening
of an unoccupied birdhouse,
painted with yellow sunflowers
and an unseen dark circled hole;
the place just the right size
where her mate staged twigs
and leaves for a nesting place,
hollowed out along the hemlock trunk
wrapped an entwined by honeysuckle vines;
this was the place
she recalled it well
so near to where she fledged;
now a comfy hideaway
for her to lay her eggs
here, she would sing again
tweet out her symphony
raise her young
and bask happily,
within the bounty of the garden stage.
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