Nesting

 

 

Birds' Nests

The summer nests uncovered by autumn wind.
Some torn, others dislodged, all dark.
Everyone sees them: low or high in tree,
Or hedge, or single bush, they hang like a mark.

Since there's no need of eyes to see them with
I cannot help a little shame
That I missed most, even at eye's level, till
The leaves blew off and made the seeing no game.

'Tis a light pang. I like to see the nests
Still in their places, now first known,
At home and by far roads. Boys knew them not,
Whatever jays and squirrels may have done.

And most I like the winter nests deep-hid
That leaves and berries fell into;
Once a dormouse dined there on hazel-nuts,
And grass and goose-grass seeds found soil and grew.


~ Edward Thomas (1878-1917 / London

The Bird's Nest

Sadly the squirrels are at it again.

They seek out the birds' nests and destroy the eggs.

This little nest had been pillaged from it's place amongst the porch ferns, the mother had abandoned it, never to return.

 

 

 

 Brown, dry, dead, silent, empty house,

 Tree-house, house in a tree,

Not any house,

The house of a bird,

A bird’s house,

A house made of sticks,

Of twigs,

And of leaves,

Small but stable,

Dirty but tidy,

A cradle,

A place of safety,

A safe-house,

Little chicks inside,

Untouchable,

Protected from the outside world,

A fortress,

The bird’s fortress,

A fortress of the sky,

In the trees,

In the forest,

Unreachable from the dangers below,

Safe,

A bird’s nest,

The bird’s nest,

Home.

 ~Fredrik Azzopardi
 

Nesting

Birds' Nests

The summer nests uncovered by autumn wind.
Some torn, others dislodged, all dark.
Everyone sees them: low or high in tree,
Or hedge, or single bush, they hang like a mark.

Since there's no need of eyes to see them with
I cannot help a little shame
That I missed most, even at eye's level, till
The leaves blew off and made the seeing no game.

'Tis a light pang. I like to see the nests
Still in their places, now first known,
At home and by far roads. Boys knew them not,
Whatever jays and squirrels may have done.

And most I like the winter nests deep-hid
That leaves and berries fell into;
Once a dormouse dined there on hazel-nuts,
And grass and goose-grass seeds found soil and grew.


~ Edward Thomas (1878-1917 / London / England)

Nesting

Birds' Nests

The summer nests uncovered by autumn wind.
Some torn, others dislodged, all dark.
Everyone sees them: low or high in tree,
Or hedge, or single bush, they hang like a mark.

Since there's no need of eyes to see them with
I cannot help a little shame
That I missed most, even at eye's level, till
The leaves blew off and made the seeing no game.

'Tis a light pang. I like to see the nests
Still in their places, now first known,
At home and by far roads. Boys knew them not,
Whatever jays and squirrels may have done.

And most I like the winter nests deep-hid
That leaves and berries fell into;
Once a dormouse dined there on hazel-nuts,
And grass and goose-grass seeds found soil and grew.

~ Edward Thomas (1878-1917 / London / England)

The Bird's Nest

Brown, dry, dead, silent, empty house,
Tree-house, house in a tree,
Not any house,
The house of a bird,
A bird’s house,
A house made of sticks,
Of twigs,
And of leaves,
Small but stable,
Dirty but tidy,
A cradle,
A place of safety,
A safe-house,
Little chicks inside,
Untouchable,
Protected from the outside world,
A fortress,
The bird’s fortress,
A fortress of the sky,
In the trees,
In the forest,
Unreachable from the dangers below,
Safe,
A bird’s nest,
The bird’s nest,
Home.

~Fredrik Azzopardi

Safely Under Cover

That little bird has chosen his shelter.

Above it are the stars and the deep heaven of worlds.

Yet he is rocking himself to sleep without caring for tomorrow's lodging, calmly clinging to his little twig, and leaving God to think for him."

~ Martin Luther

Nesting

Birds' Nests

The summer nests uncovered by autumn wind.

Some torn, others dislodged, all dark.

Everyone sees them: low or high in tree,

Or hedge, or single bush, they hang like a mark.

Since there's no need of eyes to see them with

I cannot help a little shame

That I missed most, even at eye's level, till

The leaves blew off and made the seeing no game.

'Tis a light pang. I like to see the nests

Still in their places, now first known,

At home and by far roads. Boys knew them not,

Whatever jays and squirrels may have done.

And most I like the winter nests deep-hid

That leaves and berries fell into;

Once a dormouse dined there on hazel-nuts,

And grass and goose-grass seeds found soil and grew.

~ Edward Thomas (1878-1917 / London / England)