The Nest At Thanksgiving


The Nest at Thanksgiving


Sitting empty on a late Fall day,

A bird’s nest presents itself as a waking image.


as unimagined owners now gone,

backlit by a warming sun rising to greet me,

from my nest on the windows other side.


A family raised and dispersed to warmer climes

leaves memories of their growing,

falling from trees, feeding times and fondness.



a warmth glows persistently,

fueled by thoughts and the lumber surrounding my nest.

Felt by the fire of family love.  



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