She sits alone in the nest,
Scanning the sky,
With a plaintive cry.
She hasn’t repaired her nest.
She sits motionless, still,
Not using her skill.
Quietly with a heart needing repair,
Am I, scanning the sky,
Wondering “why?”
I understand her loneliness and grief.
Letting time slip by,
The osprey and I.
At least, she can fly.
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