I opened my eyes when I heard the
melodious tweeting cuckoo,
First it felt pretty soothing but when
I realized it's sunday I wanted to sue.
Sacred ashvattha in front of my house
also a favourite restspot for the zephyr,
Surely healer for my haggard eyes but
biggest trouble for the poor sweeper.
Many exquisite brids nestled in there
often I found them joyously chirping,
But when I listen carefully it felt like
two frustrated aunty's complaining.
When autumn gave it a nudge leaves
left like wanna enjoy the liberty,
days went tender leaves sprouted as
in a pink dress a girl a little mighty.
In morning they're rowdy nasty little
creatures all chirping creating muss.
Whole afternoon you seldom hear
any tweets or any of their fickle fuss.
I don't know if it's possible or Almighty
must have feed empathy in their data.
I never felt any kind of annoyance
while I was busy in my sweet siesta.
As twilight approaches all of them get
back noisily all hustling and bustling,
Suddenly all of them drill through the
air to their precious paradise at evening.
