A Nest of Love (A New Poem)

O heart, O my old nest, plucked bare,
its straws scattered with this wind, strewn every way,
and still around it a little of the greenery
of our lifetime, and a wisp of violets, wilted,
and the moon still spills that light of his
through its yellow window, and comes at the rising of dawn
to look for its goldfinches that have flown away.