Genesis

Witnessing the birth of the newborn,
Whose only story is cries forlorn,
In every species, in every breed,
The newest babies have their need,
They struggle for breath, and to nurse,
The cold night air is a curse,
A threat to every baby's need,
To protect her young is their mother's creed.
They toddle on shaky legs,
While their mother to people begs,
For sustenance to keep her milk flowing,
She has to keep her babies growing,
Her babies venture into the outside world,
Leaving their mother's warmth around them curled,
It's a drama played on every patch of ground,
Life and death, both things abound,
The struggle for existence, sustained by luck,
Warm and peaceful, unless disaster has struck.