Solitary

They had a lovely love nest with a view

back in the pines, beside a little lake.

Sitting together, waiting for him to make

a move, she seemed to know not what to do.

Yet when he made it, how the feathers flew!

Eyes whitened, tumult! subsiding in ache

of silent summer air become opaque,

then flitting off. The carpentering crew

attired in black and white (there were just two)

with drills and hammers lauded their mistake.

Later he sat alone, scarcely awake

it seemed. Had he perhaps begun to rue

the whole thing? Pensive, dressed in greyish brown

as if he'd been summarily sent to town.

Appeared in The Weekly Avocet (8/29/18)

Photo (Townsend's Solitaire): Dave Menke/pixnio.com