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Hatchling
I was busy bouncing matchsticks there
and found that I could simply not care
about all the busiest bodies above
who had a way of clouding the air.
And separate from then there I did
to furthest far reaches upon greenest ground.
Surrounded by lush and feral-made sounds,
I proceeded to hush and invest what I'd found.
I dug for days in trenches of depths,
brown to my gills and nails coming loose.
I'd found an old noose from what I'd collect
and I'd cast it aside all over again.
And there in the heap of crowded disuse,
a new spotted egg I hadn't forseen.
Left among waste by thoughtless ol' me,
I quickly retrieved to tend to its need.
Its needs were few and far between,
but frazzled I was and guilt I had felt.
I cuddled it close and stayed where I'd knelt,
wondering where its mother had dwelt.
Just then the warmth from my lap and my gut,
all trickling through from skin to its shell.
It fell from my hands and squirmed as it writhed
and I watched with wide eyes as it birthed from inside.
The newest born being then tumbled so free,
shaking its fur and feathers a-flutter.
The words that I'd uttered just then must have been
so loud to turn its attentions to me.
With black-beaded eyes and beak-within-snout,
it surveyed our scene and then stared at its mother.
Its mother was me and there I could tell
that if not for me there'd have not been another.
So onward we went, my strange hatchling babe,
off to far lands that would yield what we claimed.
And in our demand for boundless and bond,
we'd cast ourselves out to rivers beyond.
There we could drink and sink to our haunches,
faultless and true to the homes we may build.
And in every home, my babe would be spoken,
with twerpy young tweets all cooing and shrill.
