by Trevor Conway

Develop breath, little one.
Damage this world with curling claws,
and as you incubate, understand
that warmth is not a permanent fixture.

Everywhere, there are new enigmas,
effort and ingenuity tested
by rain or cold, fickle physics,
the stubborn refusal of prey to submit.

But you, too, have been invited
to this banquet of sorts.
Make no apology for brash manners
and how you wield what you’ve been given.

Puzzled, entranced
and hungry to the point of obsession,
it won’t take long for you to interpret
all the curious habits of others.

They will hope to decipher you,
your black shape against the sky
something to watch, devoted and scared,
and many, you’ll note, will run for cover.

Don’t take it for anything more
than instinct not unlike your own
from that moment when eggshell cracks
and light flows in.

Trevor Conway (trevorconway.weebly.com), from Sligo, Ireland, writes poetry, fiction and songs. He has published three collections of poetry: Evidence of Freewheeling, Breeding Monsters, and No Small Thing. Also available from Amazon is his guide to writing poetry, aimed at child/young adult poets, Nurturing the Nreative Child: A Guide to Writing Poetry. He is currently revising a poetry collection titled A Banquet of Sorts, centred on the themes of science and nature. Interested?