Reflections

There is a bird's nest precariously wedged between the side-door frame and the porch light above it. Yesterday a wild high-pitched chorus of chirps started from that general direction, would fall silent, then begin again. Mama Bird must be feeding her brood. I didn't want to disturb the domestic bliss. Instead, I found myself singling out a photo of my favorite garden statue of St. Francis with the birds. It has a chip or two, is showing its age. But all around us in the garden, the love goes on. Season after season.