lassie

So How Will You Gather Me?

Hubby and I are trying to complete some "curb appeal." One shutter rotted off, making the joint look like Green Acres. One task uppermost on my list was to replace the colonial carriage-lantern porch lights with some that are black and a little bigger. But the best laid plans of mice and women find . . . the spring robin has woven a perfectly round nest on top of the old light fixture. Yesterday there were three robin blue eggs. Today, there are three hatched baby birds.



When we walk out the door, the mama robin flies off to this branch, worried, no doubt, to death:

Here's a little Ted Hughes for you, apropos of spring, my sweet friends:

The swallow - rebuilding -
Collects the lot
From the sow's wallow.

But what I did only shifted the dust about.
And what crossed my mind
Crossed into outer space.

And for all rumours of me read obiturary.
What there truly remains of me
Is that very thing - my absence.

So how will you gather me?

I saw my keeper
Sitting in the Sun -

If you can catch that, you are the falcon of falcons.