The Glass Window Poem by Ruta Mohapatra

The tiny weeny bird
Perched on the slender branch
And swung this way and that
Enjoying the gentle breeze

One stanza later
It was gone
And the branch stayed still
Like an empty bench in the garden

Waiting for the next feathered guest…

There were many…
Flying in and out of the crevices
Of the nearby buildings…
Pigeons, the grey brigade

And above them all
Circling the light blue sky
Were the gently gliding eagles
Watching all the movements below

Life in all its colors!