She is in the tin birdhouse
I strung up on a bended branch
I know this by her putterings
As she builds her nest
Busy is she
Engaged in her crafting
As too, am I
Two birds building nests
Both having endured the harsh winter
The softening spring allows for song
I hear hers but who hears mine
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
next a nest knit a nest together a nest to welcome a new life