Monday, January 2, 2017

Wayward

Pieces of the oak
break off and fly away
they come to my feeder
and I watch them blink
and ruffle and hop.

If I go to the woods 
and build a nest
of twigs and milkweed fluff
wouldn’t that be holy?

Between lies and distractions
small hands reach
for higher branches
returning home the wayward
pieces of the oak.

~Becky Robbins

Photo: "Black-Capped Chickadee", Paris, Maine by Becky Robbins.

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