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.
Meenas Poems 