I suppose it was Longfellow's way of saying the early bird gets the worm, that seasons change and life is progress, so keep pace. The idea that last year's nest is still hanging around, instead of having been plucked for use in an assemblage is an indicator of slower-than-desired progress.
Spring is a magnificent spectacle; unfortunately, for those of us with auto-immune disorders, it can also be flare time - fog, nausea, malaise, joint swelling and pain. Yes, I find myself well behind where I wish to be and I am not one bit happy about it - why do they refer to me as a patient at the rheumatologist's office?
A peek inside the nest might even reveal eggs, latent, oval and speckled, symbolic for one who is late to hatch, slow to bloom. I'm hoping then, for richer, fuller blossoms, and in my altered state, that I will be awake, alert to the slight cracking sound that signals a new life, another everyday miracle.
Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in your soul. Emily Dickinson