The Joy of Finding a Raven’s Nest
One small, sturdy branch at a time
The builder over and over again brought in its mighty beak
Found materials to construct this birthing home.
Instinct, industry and artistry fashioned a fine woven basket
Into the wind-sculpted ledge of a rosy orange-red cliff.
Like a large breed puppy with enormous paws
The newborn Ravens are nearly all beak.
Nestled in their beautiful wooded world
They sleep and stretch, eat and extend themselves as the days pass,
Growing into their top-heavy beaks like a puppy into its paws.
Their eyes, like tiny reflections of stardust gleaned from the Milky Way,
Shine amid the dark black night of their brand new feathers.
With some unseen drive and inner diligence, sheltered in the open-air,
They bob and gaze into that yonder world from whence comes food and visions.
They dream fledgling dreams, feel the curious prodding of feathers developing.
The wind begins telling them about the wonder of wings and the promise of flight.
So the babies continue the work of growing into their power and beauty, and
Of their grand destiny.
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