If You Aren't Explicit, They'll Say You Never Mentioned the War

My newsfeed is all about babies. 
Helen is so tired and so relieved; 
her baby born a few weeks early. 
The Blue Ridge Mountains are full 
of weaned opossum. The wildlife 
rescue continues to tell me who
survives, who passes. Even 
the dead have news. This little 
Whydah passed the next day.
He was warm and comfortable. 
In all the photos are living animals.
It's early fall. In the video
of a hospital press conference, a man
on the ground by the podium holds 
a baby. I look closely and ask Instagram 
to suggest fewer posts about God 
and motherhood. I'm most
likely to like a photo of a wild animal
because I fear what the algorithm 
will bring. God, the babies.