THE WEE MOTHER

She saw a tiny brown sparrow the other day,
Jumping branch to branch with only leaves in the way,
In its wee yellow beak, a black bug kicked furiously,
Fighting for its life, which was soon to end momentarily,
Up went the sparrow's head, down in one gulp went the bug,
Soon that tiny bird would be searching for a slug,
Its speckled brown feathers fluttered in the breeze,
Thickening with down, so in the winter it wouldn't freeze,
Proud, it stood on the branch high above her head,
Full was the belly that had just been fed,
It flew swiftly to the ground, swooping like a hawk,
And yanked out a juicy fat worm in a flash, making her gawk,
Then off it went to the tree next door,
To a nest lined with three baby heads and up popped one more,
Diligently she fed each and every one of them,
Such a good mother she was. What a gem!
She pondered to herself, if she'd ever be as good as she,
This devoted mother sparrow, who was wee.