Red rump swallow asking details,
Of my cooked jackfruit seasoning.
I could just laugh and tell her…
That they were out of season here,
Or will never taste as the one by mom.
The koel was busy in mating calls,
told me was out on a date,
And that she would call back,
Golden Orioles hummed lazily,
How pleasant the morning was,
That she was nibbling ivy gourds,
From shady kitchen garden in back.
Black decked drongo tidied herself up,
Said few pleasantries, all prim and proper.
Jackdaw told his father was after him,
Was in a hurry running away from his cane.
The kingfisher sat idly by the coconut fringe,
And murmured dwindling stature of politics ,
All the while peering into papas newspaper.
With all such birdie conversation,
I was tenderly jealous of the tribe,
Next birth I want to be a bird for sure,
With wings to fly for freewill and freedom,
But my nest always by a homely bough,
A song to hum, with some vanity plumes,
In the shade of mother tongue and motherland.
Where mangoes bloom three times a year,
And life is a siesta throughout the year…
March 11, 2016
(c) Shashikala Sasidharan