Bird's Nest
August 13, 1993
What cleverness
to find haven in the tight corner
of a roof, the hole
barely visible.
Feathers, twigs, twine
are flown in
held in the magical mouth.
I type at my old
typewriter,
at my old desk,
conscious of wings
coming, going,
both of us
weaving new life
out of the complex simplicity
of every day.