I encountered this bright and brief poem this afternoon, courtesy of Chris‘s recent lightening of his library:
Risk
by Robin Becker The kildeer nested on the ground-- seconds from the horses' hooves and the graceful arcs of the canter. Each time we rounded the turn, she stood over her speckled eggs (I could see them from my horse's back) and made a display of her fierce white feathers. How I admired her! Audacious before the iron shoes!
