Of all the good places this busy spring
Hiding near the eaves of the old woodshed
The quiet little robin that won’t sing
Builds a nest where my ladder hangs instead

There really is no shortage of trees
Whose outstretched limbs in all directions strewn
Yet with my ladder she does what she pleases
At least a couple months of May and June

Now that small job on the roof to repair
Nor those dead limbs dangling just out of reach
None of these chores I’m waiting to take care
Could persuade me a nest disturb or breach

Sometimes we need to be patient and wait
And delight as much in nature so great