A Nest

Poem by Lorna Knowles Blake

In autumn, we found a wren’s empty nest,
nested in the berry canes, a tangled braid,
braid of grass, bark and twigs, made for rest,
rest and nurture, sheltered in deep shade
that shelters nothing now, “A reminder,
memento mori,” you said, and made a space
(another space) among our books and clutter;
our cluttered shelf the tiny home’s new place,
re-placed from spring’s earthy, vegetal shade,
it casts a shade-filled reverie of rest—
a forest rustles through this slender braid
lined with feathers, wool and catkins: a nest.

 

American Arts Quarterly, Fall 2012, Volume 27, Number 4