Fly into the Crimson

Amidst the rain and moist flora; a hike away
A Cedarwood tree lay in the distance
The textured moss peeling off
Dotted with dewdrops and insects of exotic colours
And patches of fungi and flowers encircling the roots

Climb high till all that remains in your vision are —
Diamond rain, emerald leaves and smoky quartz bark
And there, on an inconspicuous branch
Are perched; crested birds having plumages stained like a fire pit
With shades of a faded midnight
And vividly glowing honey breasts

Near their sheening claws are a beak-crafted collection of
Burnt cayenne twigs, crackly leaves and coagulated mud
A zestful flap of wings and an exchange of bird calls
Look below, and there; you will see
Plumes everywhere
The five feathered fraternity flutter
We have come at a golden time…

Their blush beaks open and close intermittently
And their kohl lined eyes twitch periodically
The mother pushes one forward
Cajoling, coaxing, and convincing
It begins…

A gust of wind and a rainbow of leaves
The cottony clouds make way for the ball of fire
Abruptly, the air becomes so brittle
Cautioning that it will snap at any moment
Turning the affinity’s heads

The juvenile’s wing span increases
Its copper eyes shift to the multi-textured scene
Its intrepid mind prepares for a hopefully successful takeoff
Its lustrous feet subsequently fixed inches above, feet above,
Ready to splash into the hundred prismatic tints laid before it
And now gliding in the morning splendour scattered with cream jasmines

A resonant honeyed mango gleams and shines at the bird’s triumph
And it waits…
It waits for the rest’s success in the cornerstone of being:
A free flying bird
Into the scarlet fire goes our feathered friend
To go on to make its destiny
And so do his kinship

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