rabbits hide in fluff
mother cuddles her young close
then empty nesting
woven twigs cradle
soft breath of new beginnings~
spring builds its refuge
aphrodite songs
nesting in our feathered grass
feeding young in eaves
____________________
Birds
busy
nest building,
use grass and twigs.
Small eggs are laid and
incubated.
Eggs will hatch
baby
birds.
There’s a faded blue tarp
On an old pile of wood
For a fireplace no longer used.
Though my hearing’s not sharp,
I thought maybe I could
Hear a strange sound that got me confused.
So I opened the door,
Seeing if I could find
If a creature was making that scritch
And before I looked more,
There to pay me no mind,
Was a squirrel, his jaws all a’twitch.
He was ripping at holes
In the tarp that he’d made
And from out of his mouth dangled blue.
Seemed that one of his goals,
If attention was paid,
Was a nest of that very same hue.
Now I’m searching the trees,
Gazing up through the leaves,
Trying hard to discover that nest.
So if anyone sees
Something that he perceives
As bizarre, he can let his mind rest.
Being chained to flesh is ok.
I enjoy the physical sensations of this world.
Although when evil hisses and persists,
I wish to pack a hobo bag and leave it.
When I look up at the bejeweled night sky.
I know for certain that's where I truly belong.
Unburdened by demands of the flesh and ego.
Somewhere in that great expanse is my home-my nest.
The cosmic being of everything, patiently waiting there.
Where truths are revealed in all their wonderful spectrums.
The half-destiny of the universe is to expand.
This soul belongs at the edge of the expansion.
I won't feel anxious or claustrophobic anymore.
I'll be heading home to taste the light of freedom.
After the expansion, there will be a great contraction.
Then we all will be truly home.
Every thing was fine.
No one complained, and then
one fated day the Kooka burra's came..
People who never learned to keep in their own lane.
They never read our regs., which is very plain,
at first they claimed one half the parking in their own name..
Mr. Kook's crochety, petty, and a bully.
Mrs. Kook's gossipy and engages in tom foolery..
The kooka burra's are nesting here in our condo tree,
taking over as if they were the only owner family.
"Stop Kooka burra's"
"Stop Kooka burra's"
Start consulting the other three!!
In the garden's quiet corner,
Amidst the gentle rustle of leaves,
House wrens diligently weave their nests,
A labor of love in the springtime air.
Each twig and blade of grass carefully chosen,
Crafted with precision and purpose,
To create a sanctuary, a haven,
For new life to emerge and thrive.
With each flutter of wings,
A story unfolds,
Of resilience, of hope,
In the cycle of renewal.
In this quiet symphony of nature,
There is no need for rhyme or reason,
Just the simple beauty,
Of life finding its place,
In the tapestry of existence.
I will never be extinct, but I do nest
with the dodos
We all come from the same existence,
the same timeless egg.
The dodos sing to me, their voices,
are unpleasant to the ear, but
their future is eternal,
as long as I keep listening.
Once I lived in a hole in a tree
with my parents,
the tree is dead now,
yet its spirit has its roots in me.
Baby squirrels still fall out of
my dreams.
Look!
There goes a crazy person,
he is ugly and he smells,
yet he has beautiful wings -
the wings do not fly,
so he rides a peddle bike,
and sings to all the dodos
yet to come.
In spring's caress, daffodils hum low,
Robins weave nests as rain begins to flow.
Gentle drops fall, a lullaby so sweet,
In rhythms soft, where earth and sky meet.
Daffodils' song, ever so brief in time,
Fades beneath rain's melodious chime.
Yet in this moment, life anew is blessed,
As robins toil at crafting their soft nest.
Warm spring rain bathes each petal, leaf, wing,
A cradle for life that blooms in spring.
Robins and flowers in harmony dwell,
Under rain's enchanting, soothing spell.
And with each drop, a symphony so fine,
Nature's own lullaby, by design divine.
In joyous dance, where fleeting moments nest,
Spring weaves its magic, earth is dressed.
squirrels run rampant
stealing stuffing from lawn chair
building treehouse nest
Few people there were,
the day was slipping gently
into rising pools of twilight.
Passing city lights
winked
behand stands of trees.
Here is a family of walkers,
how like birds they appear?
Their young, sleepily following,
tethered by feathers of light
in the silent dark.
Over there, a little apart,
birdlike,
a man and his spouse talk in low tones
their words peck unheard.
We are all here,
speaking between the light and its shadows.
Aware of each other we are,
like the sky is aware of the earth
when evening roosts
among all the nesting thoughts
collected that day.
The immaterial has been gathered in,
arranged,
we now settle as one,
only to fly away into another day.
Craving for rats awhile
grippingly standing, leaded by the stomach;
Barks the hen over the Eagle’s tragedy
lands the hit on the mountain beak
sneaking the eye on shadows awhile;
Heading for the shadowy stones,
the Bald Eagle stuns the Hen awhile!
Captain hen jumping over awhile;
Here comes the talking break in a couple,
heads the cries o’er a mountain hill
breaking the abruptly weak
of the dawning sea awhile;
Shot the stone willingly the captain transiently
the Stone stunned the bald with it styled.
Sank the dreams of the henly Commander
Hearing the sound, ”Stared Me Momentarily!”
Comes home the com inhumanly alive
stunningly acting on a while.
Spiritual eagle hisses time and again,
“Stared Me Momentarily.!”
The Spiritual Soul stunned the Captain long a while!
Actions repay all the time.
two busy blackbirds
gather twigs, moss and dry leaves …
cat sits on the fence
Bird Haiku Poetry Contest
sponsored by Tania Kitchin
03/15/22
diligent digging
squirrel’s nesting for Winter
determined breakthrough
but the squatter’s unwanted
chased out…sealed up crasher’s digs
1/18/2022
*digs - accommodation for living
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