Nesting

 
Walking towards the chicken coop 
smell of dirt, mud, dampness, melting snow.
Singing birds flitting 
tree top to tree top.
A robin stands on the top branch of a shrub.

Soft white light reflecting off gray barked trees, 
green mossy rocks, 
the brown, tans of hibernating grass.
Warm sun rays reaching through my sweater,
I walk into the shed.
Opening the door to the nests
I see three eggs waiting.