I wake up heavy.

With things to Do,

Wounds to conceal.

In the shadow of a building and against expectations,

a little bird builds a nest.

Flapping against March winds,

Blazing with purpose.

It has no time for Woe,

It just does.

*

Written after observing a Yellow-footed Green Pigeon making a nest in an Ashoka tree.

March 26, 2019.