Shelter

Shelter

Half-

way in,
human

sounds

disappear.
Timbers creak
in the highest pine.
Perhaps, I will build

my nest in there;
a shelter from the storm

Half-way in,
sitting on a fence;
waiting for the world to catch up.
Enamored by a chipmunk’s stripes;
obsessed with the thought of a mockingbird’s native song.
Perhap, I will build my nest in here. a shelter from the storm

Lindsay Riggs Brown