It takes effort to kill,
 to mimic others.
 Blind when born, I am fed
 by a fooled mother.
 I put the others unborn
 on my back, push
 up so they topple out
 to break on ground
 or food for others to find.
 My call heralds spring.

 Winter, I grow talons,
 flit over hedges, round trees,
 clutch warm life in these razors.
 Rip meat with this sharp mouth.

 Spring time, my talons gone,
 I sing cuckoo.

via WordPress for Phone app.

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