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She builds a nest, builds a home
Out of twine and twigs and love
Day and night, dawn and gloam,
She works in trees above.
All to prepare for her offspring
To give them the chance to fly
Only the best for her children
These are the words to her cry
A fortnight her eyes are skinned
She is sentinel over her eggs
Come storm, gale, blustering wind
Her treasures safe under her legs
At last she meets her brood
Hungry and unrefined
She tirelessly gathers food
Their lives now intertwined
She kisses the food into their beaks
She cares for their every need
She answers their every screak
To love, to tend, to feed.
She watches them grow new feathers,
And reach out to the beckoning sky
They want to see other weathers
So she teaches them how to fly
They soar higher and higher
She watches from below
It makes her smile and smile
To see her babies go
As they climb and tumble
She makes sure to let them know
They are always welcome to return
To the home built long ago
The love she gave her young ones
Gave them the strength to fly
The strength to build their own nests
High up in the sky.
This poem is dedicated to my Mother.
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