A Poem: Nests

Ah, we must make nests.
Life is a bare limbed branch
through which the winds move,

or a flute hollowed out for music,
or a ravine, open at each end,
that the wind finds its singing voice.

Yes, life,
in its various stages of undress,
is as a tree exposed to the elements,

or a horse unbroken,
resisting the taming,
or the directing.

Yes, life is loose, as leaves undone in a tempest,
that we are to make nests for ourselves,
and not live exposed.

But with gifted tools,
and materials made for weaving –
like the birds,

who know what to do
though they’ve hardly been taught –
we’re to build with our hands

small abodes for living,
and make a home in the wind,
though it blow without ceasing.

Ana Lisa de Jong
Living Tree Poetry
November 2019


2 thoughts on “A Poem: Nests

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s