The Bird woman

My ears prick up, tap tap tap ….

No, it is not a message on whatsApp

Only the unmistakable sound

Of the walking stick of the bird woman on the rain drenched ground

 With tiny twigs and orphaned branches bestrewn

Riding on a robust cloud, sails the moon.

Shaking away   the ravages of the storm last night

 With her self –willed might

She hobbles towards the temple in the joggers’ park.  

Her eyes search for me, in the dark.

 It is only 5.30 am, you know

But with her fiery spirit, her eyes glow.

Ah, she has survived one more day, I am glad

The weather,  is bad.

Heart beating

I rush to her with my morning greeting.

 Leaning on a walking stick, she beams at me.

Glimpsing her, a bird flutters in the tree .

Her words are   a blessing love laced

 In this world, by hate ravaged, by rancour disgraced.

I look at her receding back, and cherish her words

As she heads towards her clients and birds.

Mesmerized, I watch her determined stride

This toe touching is such a pain, I cried.

The hand on my back going slack

I watched the octogenarian, as she beamed like a ten year old

Ah, my body shivered with the  bone piercing cold!

Hiding her sorrow under a broad smile

Cocking a snook at world’s selfishness and guile.

Despite her arthritis, sure footed her tread

Outside the temple in the park she earns her bread.

Her legs do not dodder

Tirelessly, she sells bird fodder.

To this trapeze artist, an acrobat

Every day, I doff my hat!

Your three wastrel able bodied sons lounge at home

 While you, on arthritic feet relentlessly roam.

You are not frail, incredible woman

You are one who will –and can!

 Let the birds serenade you with songs sublime

May you sway to the lilt and cadence of a beautiful rhyme.