WREN SONG 

by
Gwen Austin
Copyright 1998

There--do you see it?
A flit by my patio door.
What is that brown twit doing?
Building a nest in my woodbox?

I spy awhile
as a perky chestnut and beige house wren
twitters, head-cocks and tail-flips, 
then finally flies into a gourd
hanging in the deck alcove.

When it leaves, I peer in and find
a beak-crafted nest
of last year’s dried English lavender,
cozy-lined with furry moss.

For several days I am thrilled
by wren’s industrious labors
and intricate song.

Then, one day it is gone.
Gone is the flutter by my door,
the tail-flitting
and bubbling melody.

Had my dogs woofed too much?
Did I ‘in-and-out’ too often? 
Had my cats been bad?

I am sad.

One day as I watch and listen,
there on the wind--
a wren song.

But the delicate nest
is still lonely.

Is the nest still lonely? WREN SEQUEL

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