On a resting spot in a Toronto lane,
I picked up an outlook new and plain;
There a retired man like me was found,
Sitting with a great line of birds around.
Between his pet doves and sparrows,
The man was darting food as arrows;
The winged force was battling for a spot
To claim the crumbs from the day’s lot.
The man praised his doves as brainy birds,
Their knick- knack ways in unmixed words.
Pat swung a sparrow,to perch on his wrist
That battered his boast with a tricky twist;
Like the turtle outwitting the hare in a tale,
The sparrow’s smallness set up a new scale.
P.Chandrasekaran
No comments:
Post a Comment