The tree is empty,
except for red berries and full, green leaves,
until you come, bringing a friend, your partner,
one Saturday morning.
You chirp, check out the territory,
dancing together, on and off the branches,
one inside, then out, the other outside, then in.
Must be nesting time!
(Is that what you’re thinking?)
Will this be home?
Are the berries good?
Are we safe here?
I sit, still as a plant,
afraid to move, watching you,
scared you’ll fly away.
Mary Elyn Bahlert 5/2020
TheWisdomYears.org 