The mama is usually hunkered down in a navy blue pot flourishing with a wild weed. She tends to two, tiny eggs that glow with the most gorgeous color of ecru when sunshine hits their shells.
Dad flies back and forth from the nest to the wild "woods" of Over-the-Rhine that surround the back of my building.
Mama is timid and wary of me every time I raise the screen to water my basil and chives, but I think we've come to an agreement: I'll keep paying the rent if you keep taking care of the eggs.
In this case, I don't mind being the sugar mama.
Kate's Random Musings by Kate the Great is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.
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