The Crows' Nest

I watch the crow build his nest.

Though not all on his own,

As she follows in each swoop.

Down toward the softest grass,

Or the tuft of cattail from the pond out back.

They meet back up in the branches

Of an unassuming tree in the grove.

Together they stack the leaves,

Weaving the pine needles and branches

Softened by the cold dampness of winter.

Intertwining them all one by one,

Back and forth until

Their hardest work is done.

When they have built their home

And all they have left to do is sit

Side by side in a nest of their own.

Ready for the life they bring

With the quiet arrival of spring.

I watch the crows

Building their nest in tandem.

Then I can't help but wonder

If my first chance was my last,

Or maybe I'll someday find another crow

Who's as eager as I still find myself

To build and tend a lifelong nest.