Killdeer

Walking on the island along the River,
We were looking at rocks,
Though we found a nest of eggs,
Speckled white and brown,
Delicate miracles,
Stones being born,
All that I could see,
For a Moment,
Then you said, “I’ve heard of birds,
That makes their nest on the ground.”
Right on cue,
A bird appears from nowhere,
Squawking,
“I’m hurt so bad, don’t chase me!”
Wing dragging Thespian,
Who taught thee to Act!
How could,
Or rather, why would,
Truth,
Create creatures whose modus operandi,
Is to wing it, and deceive?
Good work, if you can get it.
Hell of a way, to raise a family.
Some really drag it around,
Steal the show.
Most hide their gash, too well.
Why do some carry on so?
Clear roles, are hard to find.
Maker,
Taker,
Faker,
There’s a cat,
Got to go!

R.A. Hull
Bellingham July 31Th, 2014