It was a strange place to find a home,
settled in the nook of two branches
perched precariously upon an armature
reminiscent of forgotten arms. Perhaps
that is why you stood at my side, cradling
the cold air and considering how, despite
the wind a home would remain.
And so, with more care than necessary,
you reinforced the branches, made arms
from wood to cradle the walls to sleep.
Of course the tenants were long gone:
flapped a wing to find themselves
somewhere warm to spend this winter.
In the end, the wind won, pulling the nest
from the tree. It broke and became kindling
for our fires. You stared as I collected
bits of twine and the remnants of glitter
from still-falling snow. Reminded that next year
we would do just the same.