I notice a small nest
on the casing around our porch light,
protected under the eaves from rain.
My four-year-old niece and I see a small bird nearby.
Later we see a tiny broken egg yolk and bits of shell
lying on the porch under the nest.
My niece says, What’s that?
It’s an egg from the nest.
She looks hard at the egg, then the nest.
Why isn’t it in the nest?
I’m not sure what to say.
Sometimes things happen we don’t like, I say.
As we go in the house, she looks back.
We get out things for lunch.
After lunch she draws with crayons–
a lot of blue sky, the brown mess of maybe a nest,
a bird’s head far from some yellow, maybe a yolk.
Should we bury it? she asks.
I know right then she knows what I know.
Published in Cider Press Review, Volume 27, Issue 2.
Marianne Brems is the author of the full-length poetry collection Stepping Stones (2024) and three chapbooks. Her poems have also appeared in literary journals including Cider Press Review, Front Porch Review, Remington Review, and Lavender Review. She is a nominee for the Eric Hoffer Book Award 2025. She lives, cycles, and swims in Northern California.
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