The kildeer

The killdeer calls across the lane
as I drift through the vacant lot
It swoops ahead and runs like lame
a broken wing laid out with thought

The broken wing, a common hoax
played to lead harm from the nest
Precocious chicks with spotted cloak
can only run from beast at best

And what a beast is man indeed
in youth we seek the fuzzy chicks
to have and hold and learn in need
A bird must lure against such greed

The killdeer calls it’s high pitched name
and turns back to attend to chicks
I leave it as it ends its game
- willing to risk a life for babes