This is my entry for @apolymask Information Finding Championship - Season 1 : round 21 contest
To join the contest click here

Rules

1. Twenty First challenge starts now and is a poetry challenge.
2. Create a blog post for the contest.
3. Title must contain contest round, "Information Finding Championship - Season 1 : Round 21 entry"
4. Leave a link to your post in the comments below.
5. And you also have to use the #informationfinding tag in your blog post as well.

Acceptable content

• Poetry
• Language is primarily in English and if you would like to participate from elsewhere in the world it is up to you to translate your message into English so we can understand you.
• We also encourage role playing for those who enjoy doing that.

THE EXPOSED NEST

credit
You were forever finding some new play.

So when I saw you down on hands and knees
In the meadow, busy with the new-cut hay,
Trying, I thought, to set it up on end,

I went to show you how to make it stay,
If that was your idea, against the breeze,
And, if you asked me, even help pretend
To make it root again and grow afresh.

But ‘twas no make-believe with you to-day,
Nor was the grass itself your real concern,
Though I found your hand full of wilted fern,
Steel-bright June-grass, and blackening heads of clover.

‘Twas a nest full of young birds on the ground
The cutter-bar had just gone champing over
(Miraculously without tasting flesh)
And left defenseless to the heat and light.

You wanted to restore them to their right
Of something interposed between their sight
And too much world at once—could means be found.

The way the nest-full every time we stirred
Stood up to us as to a mother-bird
Whose coming home has been too long deferred,
Made me ask would the mother-bird return
And care for them in such a change of scene
And might our meddling make her more afraid.

That was a thing we could not wait to learn.

We saw the risk we took in doing good,
But dared not spare to do the best we could
Though harm should come of it; so built the screen
You had begun, and gave them back their shade.

All this to prove we cared. Why is there then
No more to tell? We turned to other things.

I haven’t any memory—have you?—
Of ever coming to the place again
To see if the birds lived the first night through,
And so at last to learn to use their wings.

THE END.

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my dear readers, do visit again to enjoy another flower of poetry. Thanks for stopping by

@xomegax thanks for the mention.

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In poetry,
@Kabeertijani