Those tiny birds
That come only in flocks
Sit in the bush
Outside my window
They remind me of Miskit
She caught one a year
Then one of the toms
Took from her and ate it
Her other accomplishment
Was being a good mother
To her single litter
There was nothing else
Always the bottom
Of the pecking order
Without her mothering
Hunting was all that was left
Wounded in a fight
She ended up
With a tummy tuck
Looked like a young cat
Life took on new meaning
She had a chance
To start over
Until the end
© 2005 Sandy Vrooman
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