Song of the Wren

"the little wren in his measure hath yet a kind of love under his cure."

--J. Gower

Yesterday a wren came calling near our door.

There is a window box there, filled with violets in the spring

and impatiens through the summer.

And for a few seasons now,
the box has also sheltered successive nests of wrens.

Through our window we have seen first hand

the triumph of little fledglings

taking their first awkward flight.

 Here's a photo of one just after leaving the nest.

It sat there for quite awhile before taking off into the trees.

We have also witnessed the tragedy of one last year

who fledged at the same time high winds and heavy rains swept across.

 It reminds that, while not unkind, nature is at times indifferent.

But today a wren came and sang from his perch on a garden pot.

Each time it raised its head, 

from breast to beak its tiny muscles trembled,

sending out the clear notes of its song.

How wonderful it will be if fortune grants
 another nesting couple here this year.

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