Mother Robin

Does Robin feel the flutter
of fledglings incubating
beneath her downy breast

And does her heart soar
with thoughts of little beaks
soon to be agape with hunger?

How carefully she tends her nest
nature or nurture, I do not know
but the miracle remains the same.

(For Eugi’s weekly challenge: flutter. Image my own.)


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Permission to write, paint, and imagine are the gifts I gave myself when chronic illness hit - a fair exchange: being for doing. Relevance is an attitude. Humour essential.

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