A Wrenching Tale
by 
Gwen Austin
Copyright 2000

Mr. Wren labored long
building nest of sticks and grass.
Then he warbled his 'come-hither' song
until Mrs. Wren came at last.

She fussed to make the nest cozy
with moss and fluff,
ignoring Mr. Wren's display
of wiggle and puff.

On and on he
sang,
           strutted
                          shimmied.

Off she flew
with him hot on her trail.
What they did then,
is not in this tale.

Taba, our declawed cat
 escaped outside.
I went to see
 what she batted at
and found
Mrs. Wren's broken-neck body.

I buried her
 in the cold spring ground
and cried.

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