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.