Rhythms

There's a small bird's nest, fallen from its perch, sitting in a neighbor's yard up the street. It's been resting there for a few days this week, tiny branches woven into a tiny brown wreath and studded with tufts of white fur. I think it could be Holli's fur, she's shedding so much these days.

I noticed the nest at the beginning of the week, lying on the neighbors' lawn, with a soft indentation for eggs. The dogs sniffed and we walked on.

The weather has been tumultuous, so the nest must have been blown out of a tree during a storm. I thought about it. A home. Parents. Babies, fledglings, new families.

Life on earth. The smallest things reveal how splendid and beautiful it is.