There goes the carrion cries, ever elegant...
And thence the vulture,
the monster scavenging upon the passed...
And there goes the wild albatross,
flying over the horizon,
and the seagulls' crying,
bidding a warm farewell to the sun,
who leaves, having finished his day's work...
The peacock is flaunting its hue,
and the owl waking up...
All in their place,
but a young flightless penguin...
In the rocks of tropics rejected,
searches hopelessly for snow,
and the warmth of its cold...
Little does he know,
tropics are empty,
and he is there,
flightless,
where it never snows...
© Karthik Adithya Singaraju
1 comment:
Karthik,
This is wonderful. I guess that it is written with the adventures of the little penguin who found himself lost all the way from Antartica to New Zealand, in mind.
A lovely considerate piece of writing.
Best wishes, Eileen
Post a Comment