Poetry

I. Solitary
 
There’s a solitary bird
sitting in the berry tree
as if watching me
 
and every now and then
pecks a few, before looking again
 
and it comes daily
and maybe now
sees me as its friend
 
and I watch it eating
with the sun glittering
on its green feathers
and its long tail
swishing up and down
 
and when I look away
I do hear it calling, calling
as if trying to attract my attention
 
as if seeing me looking
holds something of company for it.
 
 
II. The going
 
Why did you not make me aware
that never again
I would see you there
in the berry tree
from early morning
singing from dawn to dusk.
 
You were chirping and indifferently fluttering
like every other day
and I did not realise
that you were going away
with the setting sun
 
and now any movement
in the berry tree
catches me to see you,
but only to realize
that a sparrow
is also hungry.