We have watched them work through the final frosts
Colouring the branches with their shining calls,
Bright budburst notes wrapped tight and green as moss.
We never saw their eggs, stayed far away
Through the mother’s brooding. With one still eye
She watched us working, till the fourteenth day.
And as we mowed, they came with full-stuffed bills,
To perch, heads cocked, above the squirming nest.
Mouths reached out and wide like daffodils.
Now the nest is empty. The work is done.
And as we mow the lawn again, they sit
In branches, singing green songs in the sun.
The everyday ramblings of an overactive mind...
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