Nestled in the tree the perfect nest,
eyes of blue looking back and readied,
for Nature's perfection soon will hatch,
with beaks starving to eat born for
life. These images play on the screen
of my mind as I behold the broken branch
and eggs smashed on the ground. Life
on the cusp of gentle wings suddenly
broken. A mother bird hovers desperately
seeking what Nature will grant next season.
That limb came down right where I park my car! I told myself how lucky I was to miss that random act of Nature. I found among the branches, a Robin's nest perfectly crafted, and I sighed again at disaster avoided because the nest was empty. Then on the ground under the limb, the shattered eggs that life had not escaped after all. Something there is in us that reaches out for life and feels pity when it is lost. How many Robins are out there---can we even count them? And what would happen if each nest produced its quantity of offspring? Then I suppose I'd be praying for the earthworms! There's just something deep in us that recognizes the true gift of life and mourns at its loss.
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