you’re there bobbing
with your head up and down
You can’t fly –

You’d hit the ground.
Your wings aren’t sturdy,
little birdie.

Mother redbreast
leaves the nest
to find the worm.

Little Robin squirms.
Chirps with pointed beak
open like a tulip.

Baby isn’t fluid
in finding her own way.
She has no poise.

She must make noise.
It takes up all her day!