The Little Brave Bird

By Ranjana Gorakhnath Tidke

That day of the Spring,

A sweet skimpy sunbird,

Whipping her wings,

Visited my abode.

Whirling busily left to right,

Looking for the cosiest spot,

Above the ground, at a height,

In the porch she chose a plot.

Then she wearily weaved,

Everyday, dawn till dark,

With thin tiny twigs,

And bits of tree's bark.

Just few final touch,

And the nest was complete,

But evil slowly crouched,

Good luck gone obsolete.

Two sparrows, selfish and mean,

Teared her nest built so neat,

The sunbird shocked, cried in pain,

Her fight to save was all in vain.

Later few days,

The sunbird was not seen,

Gone were the sparrows,

Who were so mean.

Under my huge shelter,

A tiny bird was not safe,

This made me shudder,

Filled me with shame.

I was so sure,

I was full of 'me'.

'I' water the plants...

'I' feed the birds...

I belittled 'Thee'

The next morning,

In the chaos of dawn break,

Some familiar noise,

Made me awake.

I could hear the sunbird,

Chirping at peak,

I caught her sight,

Cobweb in her beak.

I trailed her flight,

Swift and clean,

Until she landed,

On a bush of Jasmine.

There was a nest,

Just about to complete,

Just like before,

A little white, a little violet.

I went to check,

The previous ruin,

It was simply hanging,

Not a single thread loosened.

The little brave bird

She forgot the past,

She did her job, she carried on,

She came back, enlightened enthusiast.

By Ranjana Gorakhnath Tidke