When half its leaves had fallen
And the other half remained
Gold below and green above
Hung like a heart a ragged nest
Was finally exposed suspended
At the end of a swaying branch
Low enough to look inside
Where rests a single feather
Where such hunger and eagerness
Had seen such precision and care
Too large for a finch too small
For a dove but just right
For my empty mind to enter
And ripen into flight
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