First View by Brooke Molde

A night riddled with fright

Muscles struggling with weakening might

No one to help her, she's all on her own

Yet, all she needs is motherly love

To press on

Until finally, her newborn is free

Chestnut brown, with fuzz for a tail

She knew she would not fail.

Vigorous tongue renewing baby-strength

Muzzles meet,

One large, leathery, and neat

The other small, delicate, and feathered with needle

thin whiskers,

The rising sun silhouettes the greeting pair, both

without a care

But for the moment.

The little one gives a bleat

Scrambling to clumsy baby feet

Whuffs, whickers, grunts

He will not be beat.

Finally standing

He moves to Dam's side

To do as she bides.

Trusting as only a son can muster.

For now he may hide

In his mother's love

From the world in which he has been born.

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