Nesting

 

 

I see them everywhere 

cradling in the still bare wintry branches of the trees 

complicating the stark simple lines and angles 

 

Precarious, bleak, risky lattices of twig 

 nestling exposed balancing reckless so high above the ground

tenuous fragility of interlacing branches

skeletal leaves 

breathtaking even at such a distance foolhardy dangerous brave necessary 

raise a chord of identification in me a pang of painful recognition

unfeasible, extraordinary they have survived the winds and blasts of winter 

They must be sturdier than they look

tenacious 

Will the shoots, leaves, growth, verdure of spring and summer shield and protect them? 

Hide from prying eyes like mine

buffer from wind and weather

secure, fix and fasten

grow into a green cocoon-womb of warmth and safety private, intimate, shared refuge flesh and blood on bare rib and bone home life enclosing nurturing life? 

One can only hope.

 

ADDENDUM Some of these trees have since been brutally pollarded. Defoliated. Mutilated knucklebones gesturing obscenely into the sky. Empty. Bereft.