you pull
a bird's nest from
the vent.
small pieces of
leaves
and brush, grass.
an assortment
of slender
branches all
carried
by beak and
woven loosely
for the eggs,
all of it
comes softly out.
the blue
eggs, as tiny
as thimbles,
and one pink
bird, smooth
with open mouth.
as pink as a
sunset, that too
to your dismay
comes out.
Friday, June 20, 2014
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