Bluebirds

Bluebirds

Flutter around the bluebird house.

I see the pair -

He vibrant blue,

She faded glory -

Taking turns

Peeking in the entry hole.

Perfectly normal behavior.

They pair up,

Staying close together.

She flies off,

He follows.

She ducks inside,

He sits on the roof,

Indigo-blue guard duty.

I know their behavior.

I have watched them

For hours on end

As they do their dance,

Flirt and fly,

Challenge all competitors

For this plum spot,

This birdhouse in my yard.

The first Spring I put it out,

They have an ongoing

Battle

With the chick-a-dees.

Chick-a-dee:

Duck in,

Beakful of grass.

Careful placement,

Pat it down,

Shoot off in search of more.

Bluebird:

Duck in,

Hop out,

Beakful of grass

That was just

Carefully placed

By the chick-a-dee.

Dump the material

On the ground.

Replace “theirs” with “ours.”

The dance continues

For days,

Each building their own,

Each destroying what

The interloper

Built.

Each adamant.

Unyielding.

Who will win this battle?

Bluebirds win!

The birdhouse is theirs

For the season.

Bluebirds come and go,

Come and go,

And I adjust my gardening

So I don’t disturb

“My” little family.

The weeds beneath the birdhouse

Grow long.

Then one day,

They are gone.

I grieve the loss

Of my little family,

Tho I know

That it can’t last forever.

Nest, egg, chick, fledgling…

Empty nest.

Today

I see them again.

My bluebirds are back!

Except…

It is November.

Shouldn’t they

Be on their way

To somewhere warm and sunny?

My New England winter

Is no place

To start a new family.

Fly away, my beauties!

Time enough to return

With the warmth

Of Spring.