Outside my window a Chickadee scraped the branch of a tree, gathering until stringed fibers hung over both sides of its beak. The minutes passed, diligence stayed. Scrape, look up, tilt down. A collection grew full and wide, comically proportioned to its tiny head. Scrape, look up, tilt down. Again and again until a track mark appeared in the branch, the breaking down of tree. After some time the little bird, with a mouthful of crapemyrtle, flew away so quickly I could not trace its flight. On to another tree I suppose, to build a nest I assume.
There’s building in the breaking.
Brave Sparrow 