My nest


My nest is rust, it’s sand and dust
it’s windblown emptiness,
the sage of rheumy eyes.

“I’m home again”

it’s age of eggs, a yolk turned green.
it’s smell, it’s hell.

“Your shoes are dirty, take them off,
when did you shave?”

My nest is far from rest.


Linked to Magpie Tales

September 14, 2015

29 responses to “My nest

  1. This is an excellent interpretation of the art, Bjorn. As always you take us to the uncomfortable truths that lie behind normalcy.

  2. Caring for sick grandchildren last week – my nest was about as far from rest as it gets. Ha! Loved the cadence in this. It made me think of a nursery rhyme or fairy tale – almost as if ogres are circling outside the house. A great little bit of whimsy that packs a little something to chew – as did many nursery rhymes. (where lyrics parodied royal and political events of the day).

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