My mother and father conceived me while they spiralled together toward the earth. I fought my way out of the hard shell of my egg during my hatching, after an incubation in which they took turns warming me. I fed on scraps of fish snatched from the Hudson–or an osprey’s nest.

My plumage grew. Soon, my mother nudged me out of the nest. I took my first flight, and I rode the thermals that held me aloft like a mother holding her infant high. I soon dove toward the river. I soon caught my own fish, then other game.

The day finally came when I flew from the massive nest I called home. Some span of days later, I met my mate.

We conceived our first child spiralling together toward the earth.

Spring breeze

high tide rushing the shore of

Iona Island

a campout with the boy scouts

under the shooting stars

for NaPoWriMo2019 / GloPoWriMo2019 3/30

and WD April PAD 3/30