Reality

I held a delicate, tiny nest in my hand today. I found it covered in a pile of spring leaves that I was sweeping in the backyard. It was so carefully designed with strong slender twigs to give it structure on all sides. Cradled underneath was a perfect basket-shaped hammock interwoven and laced with threads and tucked with tiny bits of downy fluff. I marveled at the fragile object as I turned it over and examined it with my fingers and wondered what happened to the occupants. Had they left their temporary home to fly away, or had the strong wind tumbled it to the ground? Or worse, had they been preyed on by another bird or a cat? Ah, the reality of a living in a fallen world.