We caught sight of it
With a tingling chill
Pulling near the barn
And heard the high wail hum
Of its caravan swarm.
Clinging to the side
Of the wild plum—-
A universe of honey bees in transit.
It was stunning,
Awesome—
Thousands of lives as one,
An omen, a sign
A touch divine
Breathtaking—-
That opening in the vortex
Of appearances.
She came
Some days later,
Darting through the summer porch
Fleeting whirr of shadow
Busy as the bees.
Through the window
By the grand piano,
We watched her
Settle.
She chose a corner
Where hangs an Epiphilium
Whose ‘floozy’ flowers
Are anything but humdrum:
Florescent red, hot pink, and cream
Not a nesting home, it would seem.
But bird brains know better.
Mother nature’s a survival dream.
In a single day
With sticks and string
And the mossy green
Of marshy finds
She lines her
Nest with the best debris—
Tough and beautiful
Withstanding every test
Of wind and being.
Porch pots were filled
With seedlings then,
When she settled in,
And now grow tall
With rainbow blooms
Building a high wall
To shelter in twiggy rooms,
Small pink eggs
For which she begs
A tender care.
Why so close to the house
Did she build her nest?
Is she new to nature?
Does she not know
That humans casually violate
The inviolate trust of living rest?
Maybe she senses
In just this spot
That those within
Know grace divine
In this little wren.
adgitadiaries.wordpress.com 