MindSpinner

(found among drafts not posted)

Three springs ago bluebirds nested
in the paper box out by the street,
tending and flying off by turns.
Somehow I convinced red-headed boys
to leave the babies alone.
The bluebirds grew up and flew away.

Two springs ago wasps moved
into the box instead
and set to work upon papery palaces.
In deference to the mail carrier,
I rained upon them Armageddon,
a stream of white foam.

This spring nothing came
to the paper box at all
but paper fliers about lawn services
and replacement windows.
I wish the bluebirds back.
I think of putting up a house.