Monday, April 15, 2013


It sees the dim lights, outside the shell,
The hard-soft shell mother put it in,
The shell that protects, but also binds,
It waits to break free of the shell.

He's free! He sees the colors bright,
Wait! What is that he feels? Wind!
Jailed in the nest, All he wants is to fly.
But the wings are yet weak.

Father nudges him, but he's afraid.
The ground is so far, "what if I fall?"
He closes his eyes and spreads his wings.
He Jumps.

The joys he feels
First to greet the Sun
The last to say goodbye
To see, from horizon to horizon.

To feel the slightest change in wind.
The first to get wet in rain.
To perch the highest trees.
To taste the sweetest fruits.

To hear sweet music. Wait.
Who makes that music?
Looks about, to see another
Feels a joy like never before.

Her wings, the color of rising sun
Sprayed on a field of spring.
Her song, like raindrops
And honey and dew

Woos her with songs of joy.
Brings her soft seeds.
Makes a nest, of dried twigs,
And colorful ribbons.

He wins her heart,
As the other suitors bow away.
Seasons pass in blink of an eye
As it does in the company of love.

They sing and fly and drink the dew
and savour the fruits.
All they did alone, and more
So much better done together.

But one day winter comes.
The flock flies south,
The chicks too.
Their wings are weak, they stay.

The old birds, alone in their nest.
Sing their last song.
One voice stops, then the other.
As their last sun sets.

None hears the music stop.
None save The Tree.
It sees, as it always has,
The circle that never ends.

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