Often,
I ask this question,
What becomes the fate of baby Bird,
When mother Bird is out there picking insects,
But instead her luck gets bad,
In her path a stone intersects,
It sounds so sad,
When her wings loose balance,
To the ground she drops,
First a flap then another kick,
Her life is gone,
Baby Bird still awaits,
With little or no feathers,
The cold nights become akin,
Deep hunger pangs atop sin,
Is baby Bird still bold with hope on skin,
One night then another yet mother never returns,
For instead she is held in a hunter’s trap,
In a battle to get home,
Lost breath, lost strength, lost life,
Back in the nest open mouth,
Waiting for manner? Rain drop? Or just luck of unlucky insect?
How Then does it learn to fly,
No mother to pick it up high to the sky,
And let it drop with flappy wings a try,
The thought makes me want to cry,
Baby Bird has lost a mother to play,
She ate the poisoned grains today,
The Trap set by the farmer the other day,
Another dead Bird an addition to his gains he says,
Maybe a meal maybe a stray,
While ants are in feast a bird left least,
Can in the nest baby Bird survive another day,
With no cover just an open prey,
Can it think of another way,
Or it has a way to pray,
Mother Bird was out in the fields today,
When the stubborn kids led it astray,
To a bird house they made of clay,
Though not dead it’s now a slave,
While baby bird is waiting, mother Bird is worrying,
Will my baby survive atop that tree,
Or will it fall and die before I return
What a lonely little bird
