POEM: I Found a Nest on the Road: There’s Gotta Be a Metaphor Here Somewhere

I Found a Nest on the Road: There’s Gotta Be a Metaphor Here Somewhere

We need to move. We’ve needed to move
for months. Our nest is toxic with molds,
EMF and earthy emissions that overstimulate 
our nights and attempts at rest.

There’s a robin singing to me as I write this,
reminding me there are healthy things
about being here too: robin song, ocean scents,
significant otters, big windows… and each other.

It’s like that song written by Piano Red in 1929
I’ve got “The Right Sting Baby, But the Wrong Yoyo.”
My husband, my right string, my tie to all goodness,
and, we’re inhabiting the wrong yoyo…

…nest… this poem is about nests and about the wee
junco who took theirs to the road, or perhaps a crow
did, but there it was, well constructed, empty
of its babies and on the road in front of our nest.

Our nest is empty of its babies too. It is also furnished
with mosses, bits of blue thread, white string (yoyo?),
human hairs, grasses, seedpods, feathers and some 
soft synthetic filaments and packing materials. 

Missing from our nest are unfurled cigarette 
filters, but we could get some. They’re abundant.

Missing from the junco nest are the endless books
and the couch and bed we really like. 

Turns out neither of us have a yoyo. 

Like the junco, we are taking our nest 
to the road too, giving some of our shiny things 
to the dear crows—like the one 
who just landed beside me, looked me in the eye, 
and reminded me to keep writing this poem-y thing.
 
A quick visit from a hummingbird reminds me
we’re on the right path—which is their message,
their magic.

And the house finch reminds me to keep myself
hydrated on the journey.

The vulture that I glimpse between townhouses
reminds me there’s nourishment even in the 
death of something.

And the gulls… the gulls of this sea—my friends
with whom I share lunch and a chat or song—
remind me to fly freedom and resilience
into my life every day.

They all have nests too. From tiny hidden
lichen baskets, to foot-wide twiggy tree
toppers—so they get it, the need to fledge
sometimes. The need to move. 

The Nest! See the bit of blue string?

Today’s #pilgrimagetobeauty pics:

I helped to build this beautiful dry stone wall at the Victoria Highland Games this year. I LOVE stone walls of all kinds.