It is in the evening
I am in my parlour
writing.

Two little sparrows
perch on my window
peep awhile and withdraw.

They tweet and sing
shrill and loud
go their voices.

The incessant chatter
lasts for a period.
I am distracted.

Setting the assignment aside
I listen to them in attention.
Melody diffuses. Shout overwhelms.

The angry bird accuses,
attacks while the docile,
unable to tolerate,strikes back.

It is a quarrel of no modest means.
I am inclined towards the docile
for reasons.

Annoyed, I push the chair.
It shreiks and tumbles
with a thump.

The frightened sparrows
soar with a flutter.
I remain indignant.