Fay Slimm.

NURTURE.

 

 

NURTURE.

 

Stone, grit-roughened
high pinnacled
rock draws tired gulls,
nothing eaten,
weakened with hunger
birds sight cliffs,
swoop down in dozens,
flight fulfilled

in turmoil\'s tumble.

 

Wing-weary memory 
stirs saline minds,
search for clean bedding
leads to fighting,
while nests are readied
avian brides 
descend to inspect
nursing sites

balanced on ledges.

 

I note wild creatures,
fur or feathered,
will, by nature\'s decree
almost never
withhold nurture, need
births extra strength
while parents can rear
babies better
when instinctive genes
find in respect

sense that appeals to me.