The Master Of Disguise the Ringed Plover (Charadrius Hiaticula) Poem by john (called jack) wren

Searching stones for those marked
In a manner that suites her eyes
Somewhere indistinct to give
Her eggs the utmost disguise.
Vetting them with the expertise
Of a mature dealer in antiques,
Wrapping the scene in mystery
Drenching its air in mystique.
Anchor dropped, eggs laid,
In her spot of contentment,
She'll sit, till time declares
Family life to be imminent
Chicks are hushed into silence
By the motherly voice of calm
That instils in those newly born
To quickly obey an alarm,
And open their door of life
In a quiet, unexcited mode,
Then close it, soundlessly,
When leaving their abode;
To stand frozen to the spot
Among stone left in wrath
And harmonise with utmost ease
Among a shell and stony path.