There's a mourning dove nest
outside of the bathroom
window, sitting on the sill.
One perfect little egg,
just waiting for the time
for which it will spring free
of its bounds. Such a small
egg for such a large bird.
It's hard to remember that
we were all small at one
point.
Smaller than we'd think.
There's a mallard duck nest
on my walk to work, mama
duck curled, covering it all.
I saw it once after she flew
away, full to the brim with
eggs. So many fuzzy little
ducklings in the future.
I make sure that when
I walk past, I give her a wide
berth so as to not scare her.
She's been through enough.
