Hanging from the high boughs of a sturdy oak
A bunch of twigs sways in the strong wind…
Left and right and forward and backward it swings
Flexible in conception and safe in its making
The strenuous job for a master builder, it is one of a kind….
It was once a lonely straw rotting upon the earth
And now ‘tis the home of a family, their own hearth…
The tempest brewing outside is but oblivious to it,
Hell bent to destroy every dream that dares to challenge it…
The tumultuous squall doesn’t care for the bird-lings just hatched in it…
The anxious canaries swirl resolutely around their abode
Mimicking fate’s endless charade in an engrossed mode…
The gale grew stronger and raindrops fell
The fiery thunder the scrawny twigs incompetent to quell
Oh so futile to lift destiny’s hefty impervious veil.
The once intricate meticulously built nest now gone,
The twigs now strewn half-burnt and damp,
The storm nowhere to be seen as the odious task was done.
The birds crying helplessly, in an eerie tone,
As they lamented by their nest as the first sunray shone,
The twigs now lay obnoxiously on the ground,
Back to where it came from, back to being alone….
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Amazing description.....
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