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The Kildeer And The Tractor.

Updated on January 21, 2012

 

The Killdeer and the Tractor

©-MFB III 

 

A sweet spring day
new mown grass
scents the air,
with the honey
of ground clover
and devils paintbrush
spun in a confetti spray.

Cruising in 5th
and cutting a swath
through six inch
endlessly rejuvenating
rain fed,
blades of green,
2 acres wide
a three hour ride,
mind adrift, and simply
fixated on the ground ahead,
my mind serene.

Suddenly my dreamy
state of monoto--me
is disturbed by a tiny bird
facing off so daringly
with my big green metal predator
mother nature's  sharpest editor,
driven by a hairy monster
in a tank top.

No coward she...
jumped right in front of me,
wing pulled down
in a mimicry of pain,
an act I thought insane
in an Oscar winning
performance of a wounded bird,
on this trick she relied
to lure the hunting beasts aside,
easy prey she sat
and loudly cried,

"Kil...Deer...Kil...deer
as if to dare me kill
this tiny bit of dear life,
with blades sharp as a knife,

Awed at her suicidal endeavors
I swerved
flipping her a human  bird
of my own till I saw with a frown,
the four little bitty eggs
all light brown
with dark brown speckles
tucked tenderly in the tall grass,
perusing them closely as I passed
and missed them much to her delight.

If she could
she would have cried out, "Eggs... beware"
but God blessed her
with only two sounds
to declare,
but neither was appropriate
for the fear that
made her feathers rise
like the quivering quill.
of a distressed poet
trying to voice his despair.

I made a wide orbit
around that special place
a sorry look upon my face
and left four more Killdeers
to face the metal monsters
that fate would send
their way someday,
across where their young lay.

Mama bird settled back down,
her plump bottom cushioned
over those eggs
cradling what I might smash
or hungry prey might snatch
out of that little patch
amidst the crabgrass..
weeds and thatch.

She'll guard this precious batch
till her warmth
helps them hatch
and I was but
a huge Sasquatch
and for her love no match.

Later in the midst of
my finely manicured lawn
that stretches out green
and cleanly shaved,
sits a patch a killdeer saved,
Just a taller stand of grass
and one courageous little bird.


Odes to nature's tenacity
plus a mother's sheer audacity
against man's obsession
to constantly control
the endless acts of Nature's goal.

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