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.
Categories:
provisionary, baby, bird, day, flying,
Form: Rhyme