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Fifteen ways of Looking at a Lapwing, #15

A piece of magic, a faked broken wing
It's love, pure. simple, a sight that lingers

Sentimentality aside, how could
This be anything but a mothers love

To pull along on a leash of weakness
The predator, a task that's endless

Again sentimental, but no surprise
There, where success is achieved by lies

"Hide the Secret" is such a human trait
When the opposition force is too great

To distract, to hide, to make things appear
Other than they are, learn to make a tear

In the way things are, and slip through a wing
Save the young, pull a fast one on the thromg

Of those who would hurt you or your young, but
How could evolution, blind, cause such love

The slow grind of mechanistic forces?
Or a benevolent creators courses?

We should know by now that often love is
A blind mechanistic force, a habit, has

No purpose beyond its own selfish needs
And a creator had best stick to seeds

The fifteenth way of looking at a
Lapwing is for a gene to go and

Make copies of itself and fill the pool
Fighting all the other genes with a silent howl

The faked broken wing is a happy chance
The Lapwing itself a DNA dance

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