Empty Nest

This poem won bronze in a contest..we had to write about nurturing...

Empty Nest

Autumn has come too quickly.
My daughter has left
for her first year of collage
the last of my children to leave home.
My hours seem long,
I’m lost in the wanting
to change things back to when
my children were young.
I know in my heart I have
nurtured her enough
that she has wonderful wings
to fly on her own.
Fall leaves blow,
raising color.
Scarlet and orange,
like curled butterflies,
they flutter across the yard.
The smell of dead flowers
their fragrance still sweet
even in death.
May’s renewal,
now a distant memory.
The wind blows hard,
a tiny bird’s nest falls at my feet.
Weaved within
my daughter’s lost hair ribbon.
A small bird flies out of the tree,
winging its way south.
The mother bird has long ago
taught it to fly on it's own.
I wonder is the empty nest
breaking her heart?