Bird flits to ground, industriously foraging
For bits of thread and broken branches
Anything to fill the holes, to make a home
In this seemingly inhospitable place
Yet the arms of this ancient cactus hold
The nests of a dozen years, protecting
The offspring of a dozen doves, nay,
A dozen more, for even as this one flits about
Others sit atop eggs laid a day ago, a
Week ago; this succulent apartment plays
Host to many, warding off threats of
Neighbor cats; no feline dare climb its
Thorny heights, nor canine follow
Each year a new branch, each spring
New blossoms; this habitat a natural
Barrier to winds and unwelcome sounds
Of human life - this weathered wall
A fence that makes good neighbors
The bird flits back, one last bit
Before she settles in, her world
Her own creation
Poem & Photo (c) 22 April 2015
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