The Secret

It took a sharper eye than mine
To find her hiding there.
My eight year old great-grandson
Had just the perfect pair.
He watched her bringing in a worm
Or perhaps that was her mate.
He dropped a ball to search for her
His curiosity to sate.

Her precious little secret is
No secret any more;
Revealed in old camellia
Right there by my front door.
The overhanging branches
Shield her from seeking hawk.
Branches below to weak to hold
Conniving beasts who stalk.

I think she still is sitting on
Her hoard of pregnant clutch.
My comings and my goings don't
Disturb her overmuch.
For the first time in many years
My yard is free of cats.
If a feral dares to come around,
My dog sees that it scats.

I'm hoping to be on the scene
To hear that first small peep.
I'll offer to babysit a bit
To let her have some sleep.
I will see from my big window
Those little heads a bobbin'.
Like Marge, I'll name them for my friends;
With consent of Mother Robin.

By: Joyce 4/20/04