bird watching

A warm breeze blows...bringing the pungent smell of the wild herbs...
The grass nods in drowsy gratitude...the cool dew has almost vanished...

A black bird lands onto the grass...gliding in from the low tree nearby...
hopping around, it spies small movement in the grass...a scurrying worm...returning back to the moist earth...

Stuffed away among the leafy branches of the tree is a distractedly put together nest...
little bits of paper decorate the coarse straw... now-and-then u see the glitter from a chocolate wrapping...

Shifting my weight onto the other leg i watch...trying to move as little as possible...
watching the bird go about its usual dance...a voyeuristic thrill fills me...

The nest must be alive...i can almost hear the cries of hungry little chicks...
brown and featherless...almost blind...and very hungry...

The black bird pecks at the earth...catches a worm...stuffs it in its lower beak...
a couple more and it can fly back...to feed the brown moving specks of life...

Why this daily dance? why this selfless act?
every humid morning…as if in a trance...to feed the young who would but leave...
never to return...once their wings take flight...

This purity of thought...this selflessness in action...it’s sickening...

I close one eye...take aim...and pull the trigger...


iyer