New Music Poem by Carolyn Brunelle

She tends, craftily hidden
From the world around her,
Two of the tiniest little eggs
Buried deeply inside one
Of my hanging porch plants.

Breezes gently rock-a-bye
Her nursery which she made
With the greatest of care;
No fear of any danger there,
Hanging high above predators.

Now serenaded by her mate’s songs
From nearby trees,
They each await their newly
Created family and the
New music that will erupt soon.

Each year they return;
Each year their songs
Invigorate and awaken me
To a brand new season of life.