Poet: Greta Zwaan, © 2007
The struggle for life of its unborn gifts, so vulnerable, so unprepared,
The worry, the panic, the frightened concern, just as if no one else cared.
This bird of the wild, in a setting unknown, an error in judgment has made,
Instead of the beach, in the soft silvery sands, her eggs in the gravel she laid.
During the week all seemed pristine - a quiet, secure place of rest,
All seemed at peace till the Lord's Day arrived, and worshipers saw the sparse nest.
For mother killdeer had built her abode in a place where no bird should be;
Safer by far in the branches above, in the arms of the old maple tree.
But here is peril, here's danger, here's fear, just how long can her nest stay in place?
Little blue eggs with predators near, formidable in their small space.
Who is their guardian and who sees their plight? The mother bird flutters and cries.
When danger approaches she feigns broken wings, but God sends her help from the skies.
Wonderful miracle, the nest stays intact; how did the shield of dry branches prevail?
The time has elapsed and the little eggs hatched into tiny fluff balls oh so frail.
And dear mother bird, her mission fulfilled, has kept her babies alive.
Faithful and trusting, just doing her best, and God helped them all to survive.
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