takes up the heat of a noon-sun.
I press my nose to window-sill
to see a tiny little bird shuttling
often toward a plant in my
unkempt garden. I see.
Oh! It is the tailor bird.
A single stroke of olive green
from a size 8 brush is all
it takes to paint her, I murmur.
As she sits for a moment more
on top of a leaf weaving, I
take the precious time to admire
her more. White under parts,
beautiful pair of eyes and
a rust colored forehead and crown
look as though the creator
held her, blessed her after having made her.
Flitting for a hundredth time,
she sewed her home to perfection
sang tuii-whee-cheeup.
My Lizzy Tailor, I name her
thank her for choosing my
garden this end of May and wish
her all the Nature’s happiness.
I return to lift my 20KG dumbbells
count 15 of the first set of three.
I wonder who taught her to weave.
Author Bio:
Thriveni C. Mysore is a science teacher who loves to read and write on Nature and Philosophy.