AJ Alanson Author

Each day, I come to my garden to weed,

And pick through the dense brush hoping for harvest.

But this early morning, while in mid-lament,

As over a giant yellow blossom I bent,

After spying squash bugs amidst the butts of bees,

I discovered a most surprising nest.

Standing, staring, and scratching my chin,

(Having forgotten my requisite “gardener’s perfume,”)

I pondered which creature, barring humans, of course,

Weaves with such precision and order

Only to place one dark-green egg within.

Ah, the Watermelon Bird, I assume.