Wren Logic

The stump braces its roots,
bumps off ax and spade,
shows no sign of giving up
before I do. I stop for breath,
watch two wrens build a nest in a
box hung in a tree. They poke sticks
through its round door and after
each success they flutter their wings
and sing their heads off. Plainly
all’s well until they hoist a forked
twig too wide for the door. They turn
it over and over and end for end
as if a change in circumstances would
alter the situation. I smile in spite
of my blisters, knowing well the law
of facts, when suddenly the stick
goes in and I am left without a leg
to stand on before the miracle of
wren logic.