bare branches
i collect words like birds collect string. i play with them, letting them roll off my tongue. i learn new ones, if it is a good day. and i use them to build a life; to make sense out of an otherwise random assortment of weekly twigs. they are my tool, my consolation, my clear and present home.
winter has me counting nests in bare branches. meticulously constructed havens that, always there, are now visible. and they are empty. with spring's tender foilage come also the eggs. the ones that thrive, saved from falls and predators, are elevated enough to live and grow to build their own.
may you find rest here in my perch among the limbs.
winter has me counting nests in bare branches. meticulously constructed havens that, always there, are now visible. and they are empty. with spring's tender foilage come also the eggs. the ones that thrive, saved from falls and predators, are elevated enough to live and grow to build their own.
may you find rest here in my perch among the limbs.
I already find rest in your branches of thoughts and words. I feel like nesting here awhile.
ReplyDeleteThank you....Carol B