Wind Swings the Bird Nest

A Poem For Mary Oliver/ Get Well Soon

This cold day wind swings

the bird nest pocketed in

a half cut maple limb. Two years

past, a storm of wind and

lightning made that limb into

a bridge for squirrels and a home

for birds.

The long fingered end barely

holds, branch to limb. We all try

for solid, I guess, industriously

building beliefs on poor 

assumptions, making faith 

on the branches we can see.

Lives outside know the

brutality of natures’ quick

decisions and give fear

a place. A nest is gathered

sticks planted deliberately  

in a lattice work of strength.

Shaken but holding in a bitter

wind and a balcony to see

the first unfurling of Spring

maple leaves. Maybe, I

can still learn to build beauty

and fear into a future I can hold.

Get well soon, Mary. You have inspired, encouraged and amazed me with your work.

Margot Storti-Marron