Mud is not bad for nest building.
Mud and sticks
And a fallen feather or two will do
And require no reaching.
I could rest there, with my tiny ones,
Sound for the season, at least.
But -
If I may fly awhile -
If I may cut through a sunset going out
And a rainbow coming back,
Color upon color sealed in my eyes -
If I may have the unboundaried skies
For my study,
Clouds, cities, rivers for my rooms -
If I may search the centuries
For melody and meaning -
If I may try for the sun -
I shall come back
Bearing such beauties
Gleaned from God's and man's very best.
I shall come filled.
And then -
Oh, the nest that I can build!
- Carol Lynn Pearson
