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)