THE BIRD AND THE BLIZZARD

THE BIRD AND THE BLIZZARD


I am but a tiny bird
Perched on a leafless branch.
All the leaves have fallen dead.
The snow is coming fast.

Every year I go on a
Journey to distant lands
To escape a frozen death
And move to warmer climes.

Gone is the strength of my wings
That took me far away.
Now hopping from tree to tree
Is a hard chore for me.

I brood as I sit here if
I should yet take a flight.
Should I make a futile bid,
Or, wait my silent end?

As I wax, my bird-like brain,
Pea sized though it may be,
Tells me not to give up when
Cowardice makes a call.

Here I go therefore, my friend,
Let none chronicle this,
That a bird was once afraid
Of a mighty blizzard.


• Written in 7-6-7-6 format

M C Gupta
9 May 2008