The blue-rock pigeon folds wings, <br />And shoots like a missile through <br />The air. How do I know it is blue-rock? <br />On its body at the back two thick black <br />Lines drawn by Nature the Painter of us all. <br /> <br />The house-crows fly normal to <br />Land at the edge of the pool, <br />I am finished swimming at Lands End <br />And one of the crows hops to drive away <br />One of the pigeons wanting to drink water <br />And then the crow takes bath, and shakes <br />Itself free of water, and flies away. <br /> <br />The sky above is spotlessly blue, <br />Lit up by the Sun from the East <br />On this Sunday of February in 2014 <br />Up above I search for pariah kites, <br />Regretting the name - why pariah? <br />None there was: while I am about it, <br />The first kite comes from above the hotel <br />In the usual sweeping majesty <br />Soaring, soon to be followed by another <br />In much the same style. <br /> <br />Around I see trees of the palm family, <br />This particular one we call palmirah <br />In our South, and toddy comes therefrom. <br />Our grandparents' caste of Nadars <br />Were employed on these trees <br />For their livelihood and my imagination <br />Takes flight with them, climbing flapping <br />Legs around the trunk and lifting up. <br /> <br />Up above now the blue sky <br />Is filled with crows, and kites. <br />And some pigeons, who fly like boats <br />On water, shaking side to side <br />But no question of capsizing, <br />For they all enjoy their flight. 23.02.2014 <br />- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -<br /><br />Daniel Trevelyn Joseph<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/flights-3/
