(Poem) December by Yvonne M. Lucia

Long past its usefulness,

a robin’s  empty nest

nestles in the dormant branches

of  our dwarf magnolia tree –

now, after the first snowfall,

a woven bowl

filled to the brim

with downy whiteness.

Fledglings incubated here

a few short months ago,

held in the  circular enclosure

of this perfectly constructed

straw container.

I observe

the incongruous


A bitter north wind

stings my face;

autumn’s long, slow descent

into cold and darkness

roosts  silently.

The wheel of the year


Words & image  © Yvonne M. Lucia 2013


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