Flights of the birds

I watched a crow build it's nest, struggling

I reached out with a bunch of loose sticks

She flew away afraid at first, I arranged them together in a pile, left it upon the tree bough

She hesitated at first, then picked up each stick, built her nest, her cawing would be beautiful as she raised her young

It was murder the other day, they all came in, wanting sticks, I set a big pile by my window

The crows had a safe haven, somewhere at least, they are mostly hated I knew

They were all well when I changed my home

A weaver came along, I shredded some sticks, helped her too, she built a beautiful nest, she had young chicks too

I found her at the lamp, perched, singing

She had no qualms of my reach, she had forebodings though

The last rain she saw, I set up a shade for her shrub, she chirped a sad goodbye to me when I had to move this home too

An eagle came along, through my window in the new home, I nursed her back to health and she flew alongside my walks

Each evening when the sun would redden the skies, she would perch at the helm of my garden chair, wave her wings to calm me down

I knew her eaglets, they loved me very much so, then came another moment when I had to leave this home too

I finally arrived at my present home, rested my tired heart a tad, and one morning it bumped me into another soul

It wasn't a bird in duress, it was a woman though, I found her gathering strands placing them for a magpie's home

I asked if she would want me, want me to help in her tasks too

She held my gaze as she leaned to kiss, and my soul was born anew

So my home now is built, upon the stories of birds we knew, She tells me of some she found, I tell her of my few

Each evening when we sit, I brew her a coffee, she brings me some strands and I bring her some too

We both are weaving this gentle wish, as we soar the skies blue