1833. its best day behind it

 

an old blue bird house

falling apart at the seams

dangles in the breeze 🦊❤️

It was a breezy day. I heard a soft, dull “clunking” as I walked up a hill. A dilapidated wooden bird house hung from a wire and was hitting a tree. I wondered how many little birdies had hatched before it became so forlorn. 🦊❤️