No Magic Wand

When the clock strikes midnight tonight, I know there will be no magic wand to wave away all the hurt and loss of this past year. Although it may provide a fresh perspective, a reminder that time continues on.

This year has brought new experiences. Some were not good, not pleasant, not on a list of wishful repeats. Others are most certainly worth remembering and repeating.

Early in my quarantine experience, I began participating in poetry circles. I had no idea what to expect. The first time I clicked that zoom link, I was nervous. But those butterflies quickly disappeared as I was welcomed by unfamiliar yet friendly faces on my computer screen.

This process of listening, writing, and reflecting through poetry has brought so much joy during this challenging time. It also brought the gift of friendship, even across great distances.

Thank you, Ali Grimshaw http://flashlightbatteries.blog/, for sharing your kind heart and making these circles possible.

I wrote the following poem during our most recent circle. ❤

Woven Strong

Small sticks and twigs
Soft pieces of lint
Maybe a leaf or two
Not a particularly strong
Sounding description for
A safe dwelling

Yet, the tiny bird gathers
Its building materials
Carefully lacing
Each item with the next-
Until a soft bed is ready
To hold precious cargo

A little like the heart
Don’t you think?
Small in comparison
To its host
Precisely as the nest
Is to the tree

Likewise held together
With strands of love
Woven strong
Yet, soft enough
To hold close
Those I love

The Nest

Do you find the word nest interesting? I do. Appearing in a wide variety of phrases, it easily connects with the idea of home. These phrases bring images of feathered friends as well as our own lives as parents. I thought it would be fun to make a list.

  • Love nest
  • Nest egg
  • On the nest
  • Nesting
  • Hornet’s nest
  • Empty nest

I recently noticed a bird gathering supplies to build their nest. Twigs it would weave into a home. This lead to memories of various nest observations from the past. Tiny blue eggs one day, newly hatched chicks the next. Baby birds with their mouths wide open, clamoring for tiny bites of food from their mom. Little chirps silenced only by the care and protection of parents.

Memories of deserted, empty nests followed. Sometimes seen in trees or found on the ground. Both sad and beautiful at the same time. Intricate weaving still intact. Leftover fuzzy feathers stuck inside the twig walls. Reminders of the former flurry of activities. Now quiet.

Much like parenting…

What brought on these notions concerning nests? It certainly could not be the fact that our youngest graduates high school in less than a month. 😉 We feel the empty nest rapidly approaching. So before our flurry of activities has come and gone, here is a little poem from this mama bird.