Kate Rivers

Kate Rivers

The bird’s nest
so perfectly woven
knit tight into the elbow
of the ancient tree
lies crestfallen
on the mowed lawn
slightly atilt yet intact
as if it bore a sign
House for Sale!
So simply designed
and owner-constructed
of local resources
each renewable
some garden twine
twigs from the Clematis
a yellow dog’s hair
as soft as sable
shaped by a breast
once bursting with pride
soon grief stricken
the blue shells
there all shattered
scattered on the ground
in an awful vacancy
known as death

“Once I am sure there’s nothing going on
I step inside, letting the door thud shut.
Another church . . .” ~ Philip Larkin


About Peter Notehelfer

I'm a retired people person who now finds the time to watch the little details of the world without worrying about being watched by anyone . . . I live on an Island north of Seattle with my wife named Ellen, a yellow dog named McGee, a yellow cat named Gatzby, and four fine chickens . . . I read fiction, bake bread, smoke salmon, and fish whenever the weather allows . . . Oh, and yes, I try to write a poem every day simply to avoid senility!
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8 Responses to Vacancy

  1. ~meredith says:

    tender visual. lovely.


  2. The eclectic collection of materials for the nest is so interesting. A sad story, but well told. :)


  3. kiwiskan says:

    love these words – beautifully descriptive. I do hope those little birds had hatched before the nest blew out of the tree.

    Liked by 1 person

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