His first faltering step
A second, a fall before the third,
A cry and expectant eye on mother
Who puts down the camera
And rushes to enfold him in kisses.
Years later, his son and perhaps
His son's son
Will watch his first steps
Much like Armstrong
And revel in a Mother's love.
From the wet sand a mud encrusted head emerges
Another then a third
New born siblings climbing from the pit
All alone, multiple brothers and sisters- No Time
To stop and admire the view
They rush heaving tiny bodies to the sea
To the deluge that is their refuge;
Above sea gulls circle in their snack break
Each prey one swoop away
Each glide promises
A scrunchy mouthful of soft flesh and shell.
Death in Life and Life in Death as they say;
They move on
Can't stop to mourn
Can't stop as they're all alone
No Mother's love and father's care for them
And WE SAY 'Life is so Harsh!'
Can anything beat this:
Turtles scampering from the jaws of death
On tiny feet to the water's edge?