20191104 00170 2-1/2 minutes
Dreams, Tiny birds.

I never dream.
Usually I’m asleep about three seconds
Before my head hits the pillow.
The next thing I know is the sun is streaming in,
Waking me up to greet the new day.

Last week they assembled the two-car garage.
It came in large, strong, cardboard boxes
Which they ripped apart and left the pile of cardboard
Beside the driveway.

Yesterday evening I attacked the unruly pile
And sorted it into neat stacks
to be tied for recycling.
I can drop them off on my way home from church tomorrow.

Walking back to the house I saw
A small crumpled white bag
And picked it up to toss it on a stack.
It wasn’t empty.

Inside was a tiny bird sitting on a nest.
It was hungry and opened its mouth for food.

Perhaps it had been in the cardboard pile.
I must have disturbed its hiding place.
How can it survive without its mate?
One of them has to be on the nest all the time
To keep the eggs warm until they hatch
While the other goes for food.

Will her partner return?
If not it’s my responsibility to see
The babies hatch safely and learn to fly,
Away from the danger of the cat.

What do wrens eat, and how much?
I find a safe place for the bag and
Collect some worms just in case.
Then I woke up.

There are the neat piles of cardboard
Beside the driveway, waiting for the string.
But I see no crumpled white bag.

What happened to the nest and tiny bird?
Those little eggs that must hatch
And be nurtured until they can fly on their own?

They’re my dreams which want to hatch and take wing.
I have a responsibility to them.
My new life is beginning.