By Tess Gallagher

I go to the mountain side
of the house to cut saplings,
and clear a view to snow
on the mountain. But when I look up,
saw in hand, I see a nest clutched in
the uppermost branches.
I don’t cut that one.
I don’t cut the others either.
Suddenly, in every tree,   
an unseen nest
where a mountain   
would be.
                        

                              for Drago Štambuk

• Nature

Poet Bio

Poet, essayist, and short story writer Tess Gallagher was born in 1943 in Port Angeles, Washington, to a logging family. She is also a screenplay writer, editor, literary executor, and translator. She lives and writes in Port Angeles, Washington. See More By This Poet

More By This Poet

More Poems about Nature