Pipit's Nest

by Francis Duggan
(Victoria Australia)

One Sunday evening in mid May
A bright though fairly breezy day
The wind blown grass did nod and sway
As through lush green mead I trod my way.

As I walked through a patch of rush
A bird scarce half the size of full grown thrush
Upward from the ground did fly
Uttering forth a chirping cry.

By her worried chirps I knew 'twas clear
That this bird's nest was somewhere near
And my presence caused her much unrest
As she feared that I might rob her nest.

On hands and knees I searched around
The six foot square of rushy ground
Parted a bunch of rush and see
The meadow pipit's family.

In little nest of dried grass there
Four pink skinned nestlings blind and bare
With mouths agape the pipits brood
Thought I was mother back with food.

In little cheeps I heard them plead
As with mouths wide ope they begged for feed
These future songsters of the mead
Four tiny birds of pipit breed.

On nearby hedge a throstle sang
And all round me voice of gladness rang
And multicoloured butterflies
Were dancing in the bright may skies.

Since then a month of days gone by
And still my heart pulsates with joy
Each time the pleasant memory
Of pipit's nest return to me.