Nesting by Paul de Vito

The light filtered lightly through

the window, she was sitting on the sill

waiting for the wind to stop blowing,

it was spring and she was building

her nest in the tree next to my house,

the wind gusted and the window

blew open, in she flew suddenly,

around and around the room,

looking for a place to settle,

finally she spotted my pipe

by my reading chair and swooped

down to dig some tobacco

from the bowl, then up again,

around in flight and out the window

again to her nest in the tree.

Paul de Vito, New York, USA 

editor's note: this poem really caught my eye as I had just recently read about birds using cigarette butts in their nests, you can read more about it here.