Tag Archives: wrens
Oh, you are here! How long I have waited my eastern exposure my perfect aperture my rustic charm and so near the plum aflower in delicate pink the serviceberry in welcoming white Still you did not come and then the wasps their thin grey gag occluding the mouth from which I wished only […]
Where I wished the wrens the wasps the face of the nestbox wrapped like a mummy its mouth occluded saying oh oh beneath the grotesque paper mask saying where are my wrens my beauties where their perfect song? Where I wished the smooth grass the gopher’s mounds fresh each morning soft sepulchers shrouding some dank […]
My resident robins had been expecting for some time, and when I saw Dad depart their nest beneath the garage eaves yesterday with what appeared to be poo in his beak, I figured the bundles of joy had arrived. I had confirmation today when I saw Mom perched atop a fencepost, an earthworm wriggling in her beak. She seemed […]
When I removed the egg gingerly from the nest and placed it on the ground, it bobbled and righted itself like a Weeble doll. And I felt that space in my chest open, the flutter and fall: The egg had been fertile, and what remained of the potential wren still weighted the fragile orb with a kind of eternal latency, fixed and irredeemable.