Thoughts Spun Around A Nest

A crow is not the cutest thing to see, It hardly holds any fascination for me. Still I despise it not from my heart, As I find it clever, alert and smart. Just the other day I saw one of them, In search of dried leaves as it came, To my backyard's line of shedding trees, And pulled out yarns from dried out twigs. It was in a haste to build up a nest, So it was busy all day without rest, To collect dried leaves and grass strands Flying here and there, in short errands. As I saw the crow's efforts to build a nest, I imagined activities it would do the next. Mating with its spouse and laying of eggs, Hatching on and on until the shell breaks. Building a home is a scene that pleases me, A home is the safest place one can ever be. It starts with two, then three, four and so on, Again back to two, when the children are gone.