On one of my morning walks when the
Day felt ignoble and routine, suddenly
A black bird with a coarse shriek came
Flying violently in air above my head.
Her plumage looked wet and unkempt.
She was preying upon a wasp or a bee.
The spunky wasp flew with all its might.
In a duple' time the chase was over.
The distraught bird probably heavy with
Damp feathers had lost its battle for food.
Today the bee won the fight for her survival.
Tomorrow she may not be so lucky though.
But for now she can be grateful and rest
In the shady crevices of oak branches.
I watched the weary Grackle too, taking
Shelter in the opposite cluster of pine needles.
The frenzied atmosphere returned to vacant
And languid idleness of hot summer morning,
But not before it made my regular walk under
Cerulean sky a bit more exciting and of a show wild.
No comments:
Post a Comment