Constructed Fragility

Sunday sun dripped down, paintbrush in hand,

a birdhouse emerged from sawdust and dreams,

colors ran wild, not perfect but grand,

a small testament to my fervent schemes.

Each nail I pounded, a heartbeat, a choice,

wooden whispers of hope in the breeze,

crafted from care, now it begs for a voice,

yet it sways, fragile, in soft, trembling trees.