27/07/2025
Mother love ❤️ ❤️ ❤️
In the quiet cradle of an old oak tree, where sunlight poured like gold through the leaves, lived a mother cardinal named Celia. Her feathers glowed with a deep, velvety red—more radiant than sunrise—yet it was the fire of love in her heart that truly set her apart.
Celia once sang alone, her melodies drifting across the woods. But one spring morning, her song was answered by a gentle stranger, a quiet and kind cardinal named Rhoan. Where Celia danced like fire, Rhoan moved like the wind—steady, calm, always near.
Together, they built a nest—twig by twig, leaf by leaf. It wasn’t much, just a woven cradle in the arms of the tree, but to them, it was the universe.
Then came the eggs—four tiny speckled orbs, warm beneath Celia’s breast. Rhoan brought her seeds and shelter, and in their silence, they whispered dreams of flight for their little ones.
But one stormy night, the sky split open. Lightning clawed the branches, rain slammed against the leaves, and wind howled like a wolf. The nest shivered, and Celia spread her wings wide, covering her eggs, unmoved by fear.
Rhoan tried to hold the nest together with his beak and claws, but it was Celia—her body, her song, her warmth—that kept them alive.
When morning returned, so did the stillness. The tree stood battered, the nest nearly lost—but the eggs were safe. And when the babies hatched days later, their chirps were soft, their eyes blind, but they knew the sound of love.
Because love was the beat of wings that never wavered.
Love was the red flash of a mother who never left.
Love was Celia—the heart of the forest.
🌿🐦
