Mother Bird (Psalm 91)

Mother bird, spread your wings,
Shade us from the burning things.
Cool us with your warmth instead,
Grant love in place of our hot heads.
Save us from the fowler’s snare,
Whether laid for us or by our cares.
Be for us a dwelling place,
Command your charge to guard our ways.
These wings are not a means to flee,
But a sign that you with us will be.

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