Even the Fowl

I witnessed this morning

The flight and find

Of Mister Chickadee.

Fussing so tediously,

From deadened branch,

To deadened bramble.

In search of the perfect twig

To impress upon his Missus.

His find

Needed to be,

A perfect foundation.

A show of his love.

An exhibit of hard work,

Displaying what he would bring.

All in hope:

Hope, that she will be his.

And he, to be found worthy.

I wonder now, did he succeed?

Even the fowl of the air,

I realize,

Are not immune

To this trouble we named love.

~m

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