Killdeer, you land in my way!
Oh, why must you lay on a nest exposed and unsafe?
Broken-winged mother, I am no fool to your theatrics,
even the noise you create cannot distract me
from a glimpse of your eggs:
the cause of your telegraphed tactics as bait.
Eyes scan for ovals amid a moonlit ocean of pebbles,
clandestine shells hidden, in situ, where they throb.
One misstep on pseudo-stone could wreck the womb
of three small mouths with hollow bones.
But, I should have known,
the crafty home you built on solid ground
could be found by the neon flagging,
nestled under broken twigs, molted feather upholstery
with downy makeshift springs.
Oh killdeer, you are as clever as a crow,
may your eggs hatch and hatchings grow.
poem from ‘Nostalgia, Naturally: A collection of poems and photographs’ by Tyler Pedersen, Copyright 2007