As Pines Grow

[nibbed]

As Pines Grow


Hills once barren,
trailed only in crabgrass and bramble,
find a newly framed nest
hidden in dense thicket
amidst three youthful pines;

in a deepened cup of stuccoed mud
lined with cozy softened moss,
Jozi & Jango winter.

On sunny days
freely tossed peanuts clatter a sound
of thin wood shells dancing the cement path
from Old Miss Mundle's porch

alerting Jango to act lookout first
atop the great red maple
as brighter Jozi feeds, beak judging
heaviest nuts first;

timid sparrows will peck gently
the pavement pocked
for seed coats and crumbs, taking care
as Jango impatiently shrills, “HEY! HEY! HEY!”
hungrily waiting her turn.

There's a mound of dirt that stands out in my yard. Every year it is covered in horrible weeds that must be pulled often and is an eyesore and embarrassment. I have three children. I was dreaming of (imagining) three pine trees planted on the hill, surrounded by some sort of mulch and two lovely jays building a nest in there. Our sub also has three pine trees on its entry sign and we live on the corner of two streets named for pine trees. I was remembering how jays love pine trees and peanuts. So I was envisioning the whole scene and so this story flowed out.