did you know
the bird would build its nest
on the wreath of our front door
again and again
each spring?
deciding each march
that the circle of bent wood and fake yellow flowers
hanging
against the bright red of our front door
would be the place
she would continue to call home
and raise her young from tiny eggs.
tempting us to crane our necks
and bend our ears towards the
carefully closed door
listening for tiny bird song each morning
listening for life on the other side of our own.
- Katie Riedel
A poem inspired during Bets' writing circle <3
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