A WREN’S TALE
Through my window's silent frame,
I spy a pair, not bound by fame,
Two wrens, with hearts entwined in flight,
Crafting dreams in morning light.
With feathers brushed by dawn's embrace,
They dance upon the patio's grace,
In tender union, side by side,
They gather twigs, their love a guide.
The male, with plumage bold and bright,
Brings gifts of straw, a woven sight,
While she, adorned in softer hue,
Brings moss and dreams, woven true.
Together, they build their humble nest,
A sanctuary, a cozy rest,
With every twig and leaf they bind,
Their love, a shelter, undefined.
And as the days turn into weeks,
Their patience speaks, their love it peaks,
For soon within their leafy dome,
Their fledgling stirs, awaiting home.
Through my window's gentle gaze,
I watch as love's eternal blaze,
Ignites the hearts of wren and mate,
As they tend to life's delicate fate.
With tender care, they feed and sing,
Their lullabies upon the wing,
Until the day their fledgling flies,
Into the vast and boundless skies.
Through my window's quiet view,
I witness love, both old and new,
In the wrens' tale, forever told,
A story of love, pure and bold.
Simona A. Brinson
Photo by Ronaldo de Oliveira on Unsplash
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