UPON THE WINGS OF NATURES BREATH (Revised Version)
Nestled, tight as crowded shelves-
natures sleeping bookends,
the youngest in flock, coveting,
jockeys for maternal favor,
wombs warmth, nourishment,
the suckled breast, moist, hard,
achieving equal measure, pooled
within swelled, pacifying glands-
as she rations, warms, conciliates
her brusque, née hatchlings with-
assurance they'll be sheltered by
a nights soft sleep by moon-watch.
Revised 09-09-20
©MMXX-All rights reserved
Frank James Ryan Jr. /FjR
Revised 08-08-20
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
Good one. Mothers are way important