By Buffy Calvert

A while back a homeless couple began spreading stuff on my side porch. Mostly grass, a few sticks, a pretty blue ribbon.

“What’s up?” I asked.

“Nothing. We just need your porch for maybe a month.” I showed her other spots but she likes this one best. Neat with those white Doric columns, you know. “You can use your front and back doors for a month, can’t you?”

True. Just a month. “No problem,” I told him,

She settled right in. Built a snug sleeping couch. Mostly grass. A few sticks for support. She threaded the blue ribbon outside to add class. As a final touch she smeared mud around inside. Smooth as a bowl.

Whereupon she sat there; hour after hour, day after day.

  He brought her some snacks. Once I thought I saw him snuggle in beside her. Well, after all it’s not a public place, up under the eaves on the Doric columns. I guess it’s O.K.

Yesterday she left the porch empty. I peeked. 3 little beaks poked up over the rim!

Both members of the couple yank worms out of my neighbor’s green lawn and hover over the hungry little ones. Are those tiny robin notes, I hear?