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Rated: E · Prose · Educational · #2249944
Some verses about a mother bird

The stories of a bird, a butterfly, a cardinal, a leave, and a seed
A bunch of fathers-could-be dance and sing with all their hearts out.
My mother-to-be enjoys staring at each one of them with
the genetically programmed keen eyes.
They obey the Almighty's Command, and
one is chosen by my mom.
She finds an area with thick and tough branches.
Then, day by day, week by week,
she picks feathers, straws, leaves, tiny twigs, tendrils, cottons, and cat hairs
mixed by her saliva.
"My species does not practice monogamy.
So, being a single mom is pre-determined," thinking of these,
my mother with her beak and claws,
continues her non-stop weaving a safe nest for her babies to come.
a roaring thunderstorm ignores my mother's efforts
destroying her half-done nest.
"There is no house-insurance policy to protect my home,"
she murmurs to herself and works again.
Another days and weeks, her mouth is dry out, and the nest is done.
She searches for food,
worms by worms,
insects by insects,
and morning dews by morning dews.
As a single-mom-to be,
she is always on high alert to guard against those avivores:
seagulls, falcons, chicken hawks, for her body is getting clumsy and round,
so as snakes, lizards, big frogs, cats, monkeys, and the fox.
She needs to stuff her stomach for the little things growing inside her abdomen.
Day by day, and week by week,
she nurtures the new lives
by her maternal Will to bring eggs to continue the family bond.
Gradually, my mother pushes us out.
One by one, now, I have 4 sibling-eggs.
Inside the shell, with mother's hope,
we patiently await to meet our mother silhouetted by the sunshine.
One day, when my mother goes out for searching food,
a snake
crawls up to our nest.
It grabs one of my sibling-eggs, and one falls onto the ground.
My mother comes back, wrenching her heart with flooding tears for the missing
and the smashed ones.
"Why couldn't I afford a nanny or baby-sitter to watch over my babies while working outside," she weeps with swollen eyes.
Now she is more vigilant,
hatching us patiently with her body warm and love.
The wild rains and pours hit our home.
My mother stays firmly on us-eggs to keep the right temperature for us to transform.
Happily, one by one, says, "Hello, world!"
I am the first one to greet my mother.
Her beak touches me with tenderness, and then I get more attention and care.
Us 3 BIG yellow mouths are always wide-open,
driving my mother searching mice, insects and worms back and forth, back and forth....
We know she is tired and hungry, but we never see her eat or rest.
She just keeps on stuffing food from her beak into each big yellow tube,
and I am always the one nurtured with more food while
my siblings are not so robust as I am.
Week by week, we are getting bigger and bigger,
while our space
becomes smaller and smaller.
My mother is still busy like the bumblebee,
feeding us as many times as she can.
She looks thinner and tinier and tired
but with a super high spirit to catch insects more often.
On a horrible day,
a chicken hawk
swooping down, attacks our nest.
My mother, with her wings stretching-out and fluttering as fast as she can,
uses her last strength without the self-defense guns or weapons
to counter-attack the enemy.
My mother's head is injured, and
my brother is lost.
Here comes with the nightmare,
a couple of human kids playing with BB guns.
While mother is not at home,
my sister's chirping voices with hunger catches their attention.
"Bang! Bang!"
The killing sounds come from the children's 2nd Amendment!
The bullets pierces into my sister's wings and heart.
Leave me by myself,
icy silence.
Now, my mother holding me tight,
with tears in her eyes,
" What else do I have, if you don't grow up
- as fast as you must?"

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