Nesting

You give me a book of nests, beautifully drawn,  
to peruse, before we flit along nearby streets. 
We don’t peek at websites or realtor’s windows 
but seek out possible cityscape habitations. A hedge  
or ledge. Nothing so high-tower as the wattle and daub 
of a Swallow, nor as sloppy as the Collared Dove’s  
over-ventilated twigs. We hover, chatter with admiration  
at the Long-Tailed Tits’ snug but stretchy moss and lichen  
creation, glazed with cobwebs, insulated with down.    
We commend the practicality of the Wren. But suspect  
with all our grand delusions we’ll end up like House  
Sparrows living in a crazed confection of feathers  
and fragrant grasses. Holding to home is how we recognise  
our mate, and stay for life, as Sparrows mostly do. 

RUBY SHIFRIN

Ruby Shifrin studied Fine Art. She writes poetry and short stories and takes photographs. She currently lives in the middle of the country, and hopes to escape to set up home by the coast.