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.
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