Thursday, August 20, 2009

Under their wings

To the farthest distance, that vision can trace

In the aura of green, the earth lies immersed

And the squeaks of morning birds

Render melody to my ears

 

A mother bird, calling for her child

Searching every tree that he might hide

Two others, together, a pair

Arrive nest, with their night’s share

 

Yet another, screeching in shrill sounds

Warning them all of an enemy around

Many, floating on this vista, serene

As if saying, “These don’t affect me.”

 

But somewhere above,

Still flies a cunning hawk

Watching and waiting

over the humble flock.

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