The Chatter of the Birds

The chatter of the birds
Tends to tatter on the nerves
When we're too busy to enjoy
Their songs of delight and joy

And to this wise harried mother
Their song was so filled with need
That she whispered, "not another
I have my own mouths to feed!"

The mother in her could not hide!
Their frantic peeps weren't far
So she peeked her head outside
Then, with love, cried, "how cute they are..."

This is true of each mother
Who hears "Mom" where e'er she goes
And with compassion like no other
Her love t'wards babies outward flows