Birdhouse

Late last summer I hung a birdhouse in our back yard.
It was a fine house. Rustic, with a perching post.
I would live there, I thought, if I were a bird.

I selected a branch in one of our evergreens,
High enough to be away from the hustle and bustle of our yard.
I carefully secured the house and positioned its doorway to look out onto the lawn.
A nice house in a prime location I thought.

I waited for the rest of the summer and all fall but no birds came.
It was the wrong time of the year.
I knew this, but still I hoped, perhaps.
The house hung there, empty, all winter.

By Spring I had forgotten about the house,
Instead focusing my attention on the garden.
As I sat on the back porch and tried to decide the best place for tomatoes,
I could sense something different about the yard.

It took a moment to notice my new neighbor,
Sitting on a branch just above his home.
It was his singing that had changed the nature of my back yard.

I hope he enjoys the house.