A nest is being built... (Napowrimo2020, Day 18)

Some days lying still for hours is unavoidable

More when the crow is building its nest// ardent,

Determined, focused, deft// twig after twig it builds

For days. How many? That count doesn’t matter much, but

To lie down listening tales they tell with their presence,

With their absence, with their turn by turn building matters;

This time on the lowest branch, lockdown// it must have sensed,

But to have the eggs hatched and nestled// will the time care?

For we will come out and we don’t remember much, the tales

Written on trees, earth, streams and all.

When months back on a monsoon day

The Indian olive tree fell off of wind and rain

My father, overwhelmed, called// “it was a forest

A whole world, butterflies I haven’t seen, insects

So colourful, birds I never noticed, the canopy heavy

So high, its flowers like white shower, looking down

Fruits green and unripe” and he couldn’t just tell

Everything….

We forget many tales. The crow is building the nest

Day after day// we count, we watch a new score board

With sighs, tight lips, loud heart, vacant eyes and

Anticipations.

~Sreeja