I Think I'll Call Her "Bird, Lovebird"*

The front door to my apartment is in a little covered alcove, and on a fire-extinguisher case in the alcove a bird has decided to make her nest. The nest is made of sticks and is less woven than just piled up (I think the bird and I use the same interior decorator). It's at eye level, and we have to pass about six inches from it on our way in and out, but the bird just sits there, giving us her beady stare. She also has a mate who brings her sticks and sometimes sits on her. Not in THAT way, but still, we are hoping there will be eggs and then babies. We also hope they will want to attend, or at least not call the police on, our parties. Thank you, bird! Thank you, Irvine!

*"bird, lovebird" is a line from a Faultline poem