Feed Me

My story, like these baby robins, is sitting there with its mouth open, calling, "Feed me, feed me, feed me."
And I, like the parent birds, am scurrying around gathering up nourishment. 
That story is hungry, I tell you.  Hungry.  I hope I find enough to fill up its belly.
Pay no attention to the messy nest, with its bits of wire and paper, twigs and mud. My nest is not that messy. 
Wonder what you are scrambling to feed these days.