A bunch of fathers-could-be dance and sing with all their hearts out.
My mother-to-be enjoys staring at each one of them with genetically programmed keen eyes.
They obey the Almighty’s command, and one is chosen by my soon-to-be-mom.
She finds an area with thick and tough branches.
Then, day by day, week by week,
she picks feathers, straws, leaves, tiny twigs, tendrils, cotton, and cat hairs
glued with her saliva.
“My species do not practice monogamy.
So, being a single mom is pre-determined,” thinking of these,
my mother with her beak and claws,
continues her non-stop weaving a safe nest for her babies to come.
Then,
a roaring thunderstorm ignores my mother-to-be’s efforts
destroying her half-done nest.
“There is no house insurance policy to protect my home,”
she murmurs to herself and works again.
After another day and week, her mouth is dryed out, and the nest is done.
She searches for food,
worms by worms,
insects by insects,
and morning dews by morning dews.
As a single-mom-to be,
she is always on high alert to guard against those avivores:
seagulls, falcons, chicken hawks, for her body, is getting clumsy and round,
so as snakes, lizards, big frogs, cats, monkeys, and the fox.
She needs to stuff her stomach for the little things growing inside her abdomen.
Day by day, and week by week,
she nurtures the new lives by her maternal Will to bring eggs to continue the family bond.
Gradually, my mother pushes us out.
One by one, now, I have 4 sibling eggs.
Inside the shell, with mother’s hope,
we patiently await to meet our mother silhouetted amid the sunshine.
One day, when my mother goes out for searching food,
a snake
crawls up to our nest.
It grabs one of my sibling eggs, and one falls onto the ground.
My mother comes back, wrenching her heart with flooding tears for the missing
and the smashed ones.
“Why couldn’t I afford a nanny or babysitter to watch over my babies while working outside,” she weeps with swollen eyes.
Now she is more vigilant,
hatching us patiently with her body warm and love.
The wild rains and pours hit our home.
Raindrops bounce on my mother's back and wings,
She stays firm and calm
on us eggs to keep the right temperature for us to transform.
Happily, one by one, says, “Hello, world!”
I am the first one to greet my mom.
She caresses me through her beak with tender touches,
and then I get more attention and care.
Us 3 BIG yellow mouths are always wide-open,
driving my mother searching mice, insects, and worms back and forth, back and forth...
We know she is tired and hungry, but we never see her eat or rest.
She just keeps on stuffing food from her mouth into each big yellow tube,
and I am always the one nurtured with more food while my siblings are not so robust as I am.
Week by week, we are getting bigger and bigger,
while our space
becomes smaller and smaller.
My mother is still busy like the bumblebee,
feeding us as many times as she can.
She looks thinner and tinier and tired
but with a super high spirit to catch insects more often.
On a horrible day,
a chicken hawk
swooping down attacks our nest.
My mother, with her wings stretching out as far as possible
and fluttering as fast as she can,
uses her last strength without the self-defense guns or weapons
to counter-attack the enemy.
My mother’s head is injured, and
my brother is lost.
Here comes the nightmare,
a couple of human kids playing with BB guns.
While my mother is not at home,
my sister’s chirping voices with hunger catch their attention.
“Bang! Bang!”
The killing sounds come from the children’s 2nd Amendment!
The bullets pierce into my sister’s wings and heart.
Leave me by myself,
sobbing
in
icy silence.
Now, my mother holding me tight,
with tears in her eyes,
says,
“ What else do I have, if you don’t grow up
– as fast as you must?”
