Dayspring

Mother warblers, in song, return to their forage,
inspecting for insects, fresh from dusk's storage
at daybreak.

Scrupulously swooping, they return with mouths full
to their precious nest, rousing little chicks from lull
with dayglow.

Eager to increase, competing to feed,
beaks chirp for churned grubs, as mother meets their need
ere daytime.

Feathers rise from bare skin, budding gently like leaves.
A tapestry of warmth, these provisionary sleeves
like daylight.

Gazing up at flapping leaves and an open blue sky,
one day they'll reach freedom, as they learn how to fly...
their daydream.

5-2-2020

Not for contest. (I forgot about syllable count.) Might try again later.

babybirddayflyinghoperhyme

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John Watt

May 14, 2020 at 1:46 PM

Hi Juliet, I love your dayspring poem of young birds. Coincidentally, I chose the root "day" for my poem as well, though there are relatively few compound options to work with... four of your "day" words coincide with mine, but the word 'dayglow' was a pleasant surprise to me. I hope you are able to enter Joseph's contest.

Juliet Ligon

May 14, 2020 at 3:25 PM

Thanks for your comments, John. I'll have to check yours out. I'm not entering this one in the contest because I didn't follow the rules for syllable count, but I wrote another one for the contest.