Hear the squawking of mother bird,
Chased by the devilish kittens,
Captured in their furry mittens.
Ears pricked. The silence was stirred,
But her pleading was quickly slurred.
Bringing emptiness to mourning.
Her baby bird awoke, yawning,
And longing for the feathered quilt,
Mother’s wings in the nest she built.
The baby sensed a shift dawning.
Image credit: pixabay.com
In response to Ronovan Writes’ Décima Challenge #14 found here
Oh wow, to like this or not. But it’s how nature works. 🙂
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I love making people toy with the like button 😂
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This is a sad poem, but it’s good.
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Thank you ✨
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Excellent, nature? She is a harsh mistress. Great poem
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She is indeed! Thank you ✨
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💜💜
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