Poetry Talk

New post from brandonmcquade

Empty Nest

There is an empty nest

resting on the snow-covered branches

above our bathroom window.

A grocery bag cushions collected debris,

holding it together like a hammock.

If it’s quiet enough

and the wind blows just right,

I can hear the weathered plastic

rustling against the rugged tree.

I wonder about the family who lived there.

Where they’ve gone, why they left.

And whether it can hold itself together long enough

to house the next guest intending to leave,

or break the laws of time and stay.