House Wren

Finding an old nest still in place, will remove it stick by stick then rebuild using the same material.

—The Audubon Society Field Guide

Last year an opened window then a nest Behind the desk so that two worked together, Both comfortable with letting the other be— Window raised whatever the weather, A keyboard and the commerce of a nest, Each type turning out its type peacefully. Given the world we keep, How often do such oddities repeat? No telling, but this morning the wren came back, And did spirit inform bodies, well this Might be what that was like, there was such racket. The trouble was the glass; the bird was Scolding the troublesome glass, last year's wren Returned again, or one just like it, And given to the certainty That every window should stand open. Knot-sized, a bump on bark, tail up, and plainly Full of sass, the wren, head-back and caroling, Was loud enough the entire room seemed voice . . . Till walking out around the house to see, I stood under the backyard's canopy Of trees and listened. And all was choice— To break down stick by stick, or build back into place. It was a small plain bird, more will than size. I heard it sing two things at once, then walked inside.