What Will We Do? Soon, Said I, Will Know

Consider the osprey drying out her wings. Neck and face white, bent water wings outstretched just so; she, shaking them off perched high on a dead tree, no leaves. She sits. Quietly.
The rain has stopped. And she is stooped.
And you?
You are thrilled to see this excellent bird, precision fisher, gorgeous gal of the sky just sitting.
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Consider the infant. The pink-cheeked tiny life who can not know why she cries. The mom, the dad -- they 'shhhh' and 'it's okay' until they just can not take it.
And I want to run to them and say 'shhh' and 'it's okay' and hold the tiny so they can breathe.
I do not and I am amiss.
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Animal is animal is animal.