Ankyra Sound bird food

Deep within the cave a child rises,
Wishing to look out upon natures many guises
Seagulls flap above the water, wretch observing when they swoop to catch fish of many sizes
They listen well when the sweet Leonore advises,
"Stay inside or you will be one of their prizes,"
But to be the meal of a bird, this is a theory wretch criticises
They are sure she satirizes

To be a creature with such wings, to fly high above all that chastises,
It is a wish of which the wretches biology compromises
Wings unable to sprout, they can only watch as the birds soar where the sun rises

He stirs from his sleep with sluggish repose -
a pastime, of sorts, as his small body grows.
He turns once again to return to his slumber
when he catches a glimpse of fur of burnt umber.
What strangeness encircles the air of this one
so different from him! And his interest is won
By the hunger that tingles like heat from the sun.
He slinks up beside her to survey the fun -
- but watching's so boring. "Go run, go run!"

His suggestion is ridiculous.
The wretch intends to be a bit more meticulous.
Go run, have your fun.
To escape the beaks of those birds, brother would have to weigh a tonne.
This much the wretch is convinced,
They cannot help but wonder how he would look minced.

Eyeing talons sharp and thin,
Wretch wonders if this is a game they could win.
One paw stepped forward like an outreaching hand,
They hope to lure their brother into the sand.

Her words and actions contradict!
"Go run, have fun," yet still she slips
into the line of feathered fiends
wheeling through the sky.

His tender thoughts are not yet trained
to see the guile there contained
in gestures knowing guilt nor stain.
Brightness lights his eyes.

Let's go, let's go! he charges past
her invitation, soaring fast
to split the sea birds in their path
of pitched and piercing cries.