Oh Little Mother, I Honour Thee

This is a story about a nest
Expertly woven by a little bird
She chose her installation spot
Our short driveway
A little tree, barely more than a sapling
Still settling in to its new pot
Between two car parks

We first noticed her... loitering
Lingering longer - poking about
As we came and went
Pick-ups and drop-offs
The rhythm of family

"She's STILL here mum"
Lo and behold we could see
Busier than a bee
Twigs were coming together
Looking awfully deliberate
Carefully placed foundations
Us marveling at the wonder
Up close and personal

"But is it the right location?"
My sinking heart wondered aloud
It's warm, sheltered - that's true
If the cars and commotion
are no concern to her
Then what of this little tree?
How is she so confident in its strength?
Can those young, flimsy branches
really be the arms to cradle
the rhythm of her family?
The comings and goings
Taking flight and landing
Pick-ups and drop-offs
"Let's go inside, and give her some space"

The final piece, a work of art.
We had to marvel again
Her sourcing of quality twigs
Expertly woven together tightly
Adorned with stray litter
of paper and thread from my studio
Blown into the garden
like a universal delivery to her task

She lovingly padded out a cosy side
with snippets of fluffy filling
from an outdoor cushion.
Cheeky beak - must have found the broken seam...

Contraband put to good use
So much care and thought put into it
Her hopes and dreams manifested
The changing feeling in her belly
motivating her urgent build

But the little tree looked even smaller
now the nest was complete
As we saw her come and go
Her weight plus the nest
on the young branches
caused a temporary sway
A worrying design flaw emerging
"Let's go in and give her some space"

One morning, the sweet reveal
A perfect little egg
Nestled on the soft side
Mumma bird fluttering nearby
Best not loiter and cause her anxiety
"Let's get you to school and give her some space"

But before too long
A discovery was made
Of the egg on the ground
Broken open, a healthy yolk
The nest still intact
Little mumma, nowhere to be seen
Never to return to her perfect nest

Perhaps she had come to terms
with the error of her choices.
Now she sought a better tree
with stronger branches
A true foundation for growth
One that can handle the weight
of her next generation

Did she carry the guilt of her past
or take it in her stride?
I could have done with her advice
Mumma to mumma
How did you move past it?
I am grasshopper to your sensei
Because I can't often handle
the weight of motherhood
when things go astray
the self-blame flows freely

I hope she got another shot
To realise her dreams of motherhood
Her speckled porcelain precious
Kept safe until a cheeky beak
cracks through exhausted and hungry
Now the real job begins mumma
And for that, I honour thee.

​

Rachel Crea

Vintage Remixed, 2024