NaPoWriMo #5

Today's prompt was tough. I wrote a "Golden Shovel" ... a form I'd never heard of but I'm a bit curious about. Here's my poem:

I’ll never understand the reasons why you
Made that clutch of eggs the perfect size to fit
into the nest’s palm, the nest into
the branch’s crook, and me
the one who watched the sparrows like
a child watches caterpillars inside a
cocoon, how you made our lives hook
into one another, the birds’ into
mine and mine into an
emptiness. The corner of my eye
was damp, a witness to a
gust of wind. I held my breath, a fish
dangling on your hook
as you let it tumble an
unthinking loosening, an open
fist, a watchful eye.  

(Notice the last word of each line)