That little bird
Which comes for eating
Full of milky bajra grain.
Her body is sportive
As a new baby born.
She is flying over the grain
With her little body and brain.
I see her in my bajra corn
In the beautiful, pleasant morn.
That little bird
Which comes for drinking
Water in my field drain.
Sometimes dives sometimes flies,
Sometimes jerking her wings and tail
In the fancy flow of watery drain.
Sometimes sharpening her beak on her nail.
She is alone, alert, and abrupt.
Her melodious song –
In my heart, I have kept.
That little bird
Which comes for chirruping
in my greeny garden.
She chirrups and chitters
From boughs to boughs.
She is the warden of my garden.
She is granddaughter
Of her old grandpa – garden.
She is the warden of my garden.
~Nikhil Verma
Ayodhya, India
Bhut khub Bro 🥰🥰