but fragile,
and when the wind came,
it blew them all out of the nest,
and they all tumbled to the ground,
and their tiny skulls were all smashed.
even so.
my next brood was strong
but unwise,
and each flourished in its own nest,
until one succumbed to poison,
and one flew into a trap,
and one simply went missing,
and one was stabbed
in the back.
even so.
my next brood i raised to be
powerful and clever,
and i held them close,
protected them,
but they chafed in the closeness,
and they ate each other up
until only one was left,
and that one
threatened to consume me.
i killed it with my own hands.
even so.
i pine for what is lost,
and long for what could have been,
and wonder what would have been,
and know that they will never be.
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