A Long Cold-Chill

I watched the penguins woddle along, On cold-hard ice; where they belong. From water to land, they scurried around, Flapping their feet on frozen ground. Herds of them were standing still, Settling down to a long cold chill. Mother passes her egg to father carefully; Knowing he'll care for it, so, naturally. He'll protect it from the harsh-cold nights, In a warm snug pouch away from sight. For mother must find many fish to catch, While father stays until it is hatched. Long-dark days of Winter will change to Fall, Returning mother, with, her familiar call. Such a sweet sound for father's ear, Ending another, long-cold Winter year. Giving father penguin a much needed break, For their chick is born and fully awake. With such a huge urge to quickly eat, Yes, many tasty meals of fresh, fish-meat.