My Mother.
She was the proudest of birds
Her nest was made of woven gold with silver embroidery
Her two little eggs polished to reflect the mother's loving smile
And guardian over this lavish nest, a warrior bird with razor sharp talons,
But she was proudest most of her plume
Wild and extravagant, rich red speckles covering an array of deep hazel feathers
Their edges, like the hems of a dress, entwined with brilliant white gold;
But the envious world sent an eagle to take her plumage
And her husband dove with him to the skies, and still they battle
Next they sent a winged fox and he ruined her nest, hostaged her eggs
Humbled, she shed her plumage, scattered it for the world to hoard
And Naked without husband, she looked down upon her plain little eggs,
And reflected there was a mother’s loving smile.
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