Somdatta Mitra-Heaven for the hatchlings




Sprouting from the eggs ,

The hatchlings nod their heads.

Their eyes are yet to see the world ,

They cherish the moments of cuddling;

and their thoughts whirl.

The Sun sets to fondle them with its rays ,

The rains refresh them to ensconce.

The silent predators espy their prey,

The mother is vulnerable to an umbre.

They try to flutter their wings with an effort ,

As if to fly high in the firmament before they perched.

Mothers are always so adorable ,

While incubating their care is laudable.

Feeding their nestlings with a tenacity ,

They rejoice and nuzzle to celebrate birth in a divinity.

As the trees embrace these hatchlings ,

Like a parent and gift a shelter.

Life seems beautiful with their chirping ,

The whole world admires this resplendant beauty while observing.

The hollow of the trees unfolds a mystery ,

Often the chances are there to be attacked ;

by the deadliest snakes in a trickery.

Yet the hatching of these babies instil a fervour ,

All seem to cherish the edifice of eternal bliss.

Life is indeed a vauntsquare ,

Where the beatitude and danger both exists as estranged.