Miss M came into me with tears in her eyes.
She had found a broken egg near our front steps.
Initially she had thought it was our awful neighbours egging us and she felt mad.
Her anger soon turned to sadness when her older brother assessed the situation and ascertained that the situation had more to do with nature than neighbours.
He pointed out the egg had fallen from a nest that was made annually.
It was natural, it was nature.
The sadness of it all hit Miss M.
The mother bird, laying the egg, nesting the egg, keeping it warm in anticipation of a new chick.
Yet the forces of nature, the wind eluded her.
Her chick was never hatched.
Martha gathered a floral tribute and laid it out close to the nest.
Honouring the chick that never was, the mama who lost against nature.