Love Nest

Each spring the birds
return to my chimney to
build a nest. First the busy
flapping wings of parents
preparing the nest.
Soon the quickening;
the nestlings weakly bleating.

Next the joyous proclaiming–
Sometimes only one or two,
sometimes sounds like
multitudes of songbirds
singing and dancing
night and day, their
flapping and shrieking
amplified in my chimney.

All this activity made me
giggle, to hear them jumping
around, clamoring for worms
their parents dutifully delivered.
Each season the family would stay
until the noises just flew away.

We got married in May
and she moved in with me
and when the songbirds
started their riotous living, I
grinned with mischievous glee.

But she didn’t think it funny
and complained about the noise
and the mess. She wanted to find
a long stick, probe the dark space
and abort the nest.

“Please don’t do that that,” I said,
“Besides then you’ll really have
a mess; the nest and eggs
maybe even half-hatched chicks
falling down onto the hearth.”

Well she didn’t like messes
anymore than she liked noises.
And she said, “I’ll start a fire
and drive them out.”
(or burn them up if they’re
not ready to fly)
Eventually all was quiet in
the chimney that season.

One day I came home from
work; she’d hired a man to
climb the roof, and cap
the chimney top. And
so it will always be, quiet
and tidy ever after.

And when I pledged
my vows for life; how
was I to know she’d
smoke the songbirds
out of my heart ?