The bird’s nest fell sometime this winter and landed on the lawn. Filament-sized twigs, barely worthy of the word twig – wiry sub-twigs – and a few strands of what must be deer hair and wisps of lichen form the flattened nest. It is intricately constructed and still strong in its fragile weaving but no match for a windstorm.
It sat on the front porch table for months, and now in the last week, every time I see it, I think about Japan – and the other flattened homes. When I sent inadequate commiseration to my Japanese reader, he ended his reply by wishing “Peace to the unfortunate souls.”
Knowing the balance of hope with with despair is upended for the survivors, I wish for the return of hope – somehow – in all its life supporting forms.