The Ptarmigan

August 18, 2019

Between mountain peaks
And passing clouds, you
Just might spot the nest
Of a rock ptarmigan.

Her plumage the mottled
Browns and golds of an
Expecting mother, tending
Her clutch in summer heat.

But though she is vigilant,
These eggs will never hatch.
Her efforts in vain, she will
Try to encourage their shells.

Eventually, she will abandon
Them, and her speckled visage,
For snowy tundra brush and
A clean start in white feathers.