Sweet Pulp

By Krishnam Raju Vegesna

She waited for the first rays of dawn,

those newborn strands of reborn light,

to thaw her feathers, sore and frozen

from the ruthless November night.

In a heartbeat, echoed a few days from her past.

She was just a baby bird then, untouched by fear or pain,

snuggling with her brothers in their cozy little nest,

so far from the north, unscathed by hunger or rain.

Those squabbles to reach mother's beak,

to grab her share of a grape or grain,

lullabies from Uncle Owl by the creek,

their mattress of leaves, so soft and green.

Oh lord! she wondered, childhood is a dream!

A dream lived once, but relived forever,

a sweet pulp before the bitter seed.

Melting her iced eye’s corner, sailed a warm tear.

Surfaced from the river of reveries, she smiled,

grabbed her grains and arched her wings wide,

for it's time for her flight back to a nest in the north,

where her little ones await their mother’s warmth.

By Krishnam Raju Vegesna