Nesting
Fall and the blooms
on the hydrangea bush,
brown, bird nest in the middle
empty until spring.
The ceiling fan on the porch
quiet now but the blades
a favorite spot for birds
to build their home.
One spring I leaned to smell
a yellow rose on the bush
by the fence. A robin
immediately swirled
in front of me, cussing
I’m sure, because I
was too close to her babies.
Our grandkids come here
to run through our yard,
chase birds and squirrels,
toss leaves in the fall,
ride bikes in spring.
We’re home.
About the Author: Robin Wright lives in Southern Indiana. Her work has appeared in As it Ought to Be, Lothlorien Poetry Journal, One Art, Loch Raven Review, Panoply, Rat’s Ass Review, The Beatnik Cowboy, Spank the Carp, The New Verse News, and others. She is a Pushcart Prize nominee and a Best New Poets 2024 nominee. Her first chapbook, Ready or Not, was published by Finishing Line Press in 2020.
Image Credit: Public domain image originally from L’Illustration horticole: Belgium: Imprimerie et lithographie de F. et E. Gyselnyck,1854-1896. Courtesy of the Biodiversity Heritage Library.
As It Ought To Be 