Chirp!

Chirp! chirp! chirp!

Beaks upturned,

Tiny weak wings gyrating,

The chicks cry for food.

A hundred feet distant,

A cloud of shocked feathers,

Scurry with adrenaline,

Parted from their frame.

Wings that flap no more,

A song forever unsung,

Prey to the prowling predator,

Whose emerald eyes mew with satisfaction.

Where is mother?

Where is her living nourishment?

Her children fade away,

In an unkempt nest,

Ignored by nature,

Whose aim is otherwise.