The phone vibrates, and its screen lights up.
As usual, news headlines are pretty strong.

Hurricane hitting New York, flooding in Nagpur,
Wildfires near Hobart, a landslide in Hong Kong.

But I’m reminded of yet another tragedy,
Sitting with my black coffee today morn.

Don’t know why, but there is a sweet melody..
Palpably missing from this balcony’s birdsong.


Flickering, faltering, fading childhood memories,
Of an hour or two — spent on the front yard lawn.

Like jewels on a necklace, with elegant flight and a grace,
Gardens and many window sills, they once used to adorn.

Eyeballs shed a hot tear each; as they now begin to see
Tiny ghosts, looking back at me, so morose and forlorn.

Hauntingly silent chirps, plead me to think of the plight
Of all those that are still left. It is way too easy to mourn.


No one will even understand this woeful whine of mine.
Clueless shall be the generations, that are yet to be born.

I put down my mug, pick up some seeds and a shovel.
Perhaps someday — nature and man can get along.

Stiffen a lip, and armed with a steely resolve,
This very lonesome fight, I must carry on.

My aching soul can’t help but wonder..
Where have all the sparrows gone?!

Jack of all trades, master of some.

Jack of all trades, master of some.