As Is the Nature Of

A perfect blue robin egg sits on my porch,
perfect except it’s broken.
I fancy the chick is safe in its nest
mouth gaping for morsels from mother
crying out, grasping life
as is the nature of robins.

More likely the egg was snatched by a hawk
the yolk consumed on the fly,
the concentrated nutrients
used to care for her own little ones
crying out, grasping life
as is the nature of hawks.