So happy was the mother bird
by Herbert Nehrlich
when both eggs hatched two beauties.
Their father wore his light blue shirt
and then resumed his duties
of catching worms and insects, flies
and bring them to the nest,
dessert was tiny beetle pies,
both juniors were impressed.
And father bird was really lazy,
he never flew too far,
because the distant air looked hazy,
but birds THAT lazy are
dependent on the local grubs
around their homestead tree,
so he would dig around the shrubs,
ignoring cries 'NOT ME '.
They hated him, that bloody bird
and dug their own homes deeper
and covered all with mounds of dirt
to keep away this reaper.
One day a tragedy occurred,
a wind was blowing wildly,
when in the nest one little bird
stood up, to put it mildly,
to see the ground and wait for Dad,
he fell straight to the ground,
he tumbled, fluttering like mad
but spiralled round and round.
And there he lay, no one to shift
the boy back up to Mama,
he'd landed in a lonely rift
and ended thus this drama.
In thirty days he was no more,
the bugs all ate their fill.
And Fatherbird, just like before
came down for food here still.