When I was young my mother would comb out my hair

She would gather up the loose tangled strands and scatter them to the wind

She said that the birds would use them to make nests for the winter

I wonder if any strands of my hair actually made their way into birds nests

It would be reassuring to know some part of me was a piece of such a beautiful thing

It would be nice to know that someplace somewhere, I was apart of a home