Nest (Poetry)

A clutch of poems
brooded warm
within thought’s fragile shell
the blue of dreams —
a freckled love
too faintly brushed to tell.

Each egg is turned
and given space
its tiny heart is heard
singing far-off — shrill and clear
as any sky-flung bird.

Soft, their promise
through pale walls
so brittle, whispered thin
those voices safe inside the nest
of wild imagining.