The hatchling flew out of the nest;
But the crow was watching;
She flew for just a few seconds;
She flew her very best.
That was not good enough for life.
The glistening crow swooped down
Like a swift guillotine:
His wings the slice, his beak the knife.
That was an end to her being:
A month of chirping hope,
A month of familial love,
A month of believing.
16th April, 2011