NaPoWriMo Day 17

Today a bluebird plucked
all the nesting material
out of the box. Twigs and
dried grass in her beak
she flew to some other site.

Some other place where
the air is not so arthritic and
the cherry blossoms shelter
enlightenment.

Her thatchwork is provision,
a blue feathered urge to the
future built on a fence post
facing east.

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