Dipper Bird Mothers

a poem for mothers who raise their children on the altar of God

picture of a Dipper Bird taken by Artfox Photography and found on Unsplash

Waters spilling o'er the edge of a cliff, 
spray a thundering thrum of foaming mist;
but the roar is laced in a gentle hymn: 
a lilting whistle from a songbird's chest.

Embedded in crags, on the ragged rim, 
the Dipper bird has woven her nest.
She lays her young beside the waters, 
the roaring rage of aquatic unrest;

entrusting them there, she dives beneath—into the bellowing spray of mist,
into the roar on the edge of the cliff;
fetching her food where the overflow plummets
to nourish the young she hid in harm's summits.

What kind of mother builds a home in unrest?
The Dipper bird, knowing the safest place for her nest
is next to the Source that keeps her children fed. 

On the border of danger, knowing what could be lost,
she has chosen this portion; she has counted the cost. 

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