Empty Nests

It is cold and crisp, 14 degrees, slight wind.
I have been thinking about the emptiness of an Island in January.

Mind you, it doesn’t feel empty-it just appears that way.

In winters past I used to be surprised at all the summer homes I could see once the trees became bare and cold.

Now I just see nests.

Today, I was intrigued with the interiors of these sturdy, windblown, and weathered dwellings.

Summer nests now insulated with plastic, snow, even wrapped with wool scarf remnants (oh, Crow you are clever!)

and a hollow hive swaying……