nineteen nests
in the gnarled
naked branches
little stick globes
swaying in the
arctic blast
sweeping over texas
mineteen nests
in a gas station
parking lot
just above the
cold people getting
gas before slinking
back to warm homes
the wind cuts through
my thin gray jacket
i stand shivering
counting the nests
looking for signs of
little chilly birds
hidden deep inside
waiting out this
fourth passing of winter
as it whips miserably
across the metroplex
whispering a poem
of the sunshine in
her beautiful soul
to infuse the sparrows
with summer’s kiss
to warm nineteen nests