Hope

The bushtit nest is growing, the pair is busy patching holes, securing the tie-downs. The female moves a big piece of fluff from one spot to another, tucks it in soundly. Yesterday the male popped out of the tube like a jack-in-the-box and flitted off – made me laugh. 


I find myself worrying about them if I don’t see them for a half hour — worry when I see Pearl the neighbor cat watching, wandering around the courtyard; please, please let it hold this time, let the babies hatch and grow and fledge. The nest has come to mean hope to me — Hope is the thing with feathers - and lichen and moss and dried flowers.