THE NEST
Rothole in the eave.
Suddenly, its formless russet frame,
Musty-looking, is filled with peeking eyes, mango beaks,
All flickering like an old movie.
It is snug in the hole, safe;
To leave is taking a chance.
As if he had a running start, a sleek, powder blue rocket shoots out, gone.
Another, another, leaving a quiet damp hole,
With secrets.
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mgeisser
