Tiny bits of camouflage fluff
with tiny yawping contrast mouths
in a feathered bowl of twigs and grass
in a branch-crook of a white pine
needle-covered, near a bedroom window
in a house overlooking.

On a cold day in April
warmed by a broad feathered red breast
incessantly fed by both parents
protected, nurtured, and nourished
to someday…
fly.

Margaret Dubay Mikus
© 2012

From Thrown Again into the Frazzle Machine