• raghavendran 7w

    Plight of Migratory Birds

    One can't see one's own nose in the thick smog that envelopes the city. Schools and colleges are closed on health grounds. Vehicles ply with lights on when it is day.
    The deteriorating state of air quality in the national capital, Delhi and it's surrounding areas has prompted me to write this poem.

    Plight of Migratory Birds

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    We are migrants from the frigid zone,
    Who every year fly to warmer climes known
    To us for countless seasons of the year,
    Only to return when the sun shines clear.

    Instinct prompting, we took off on time
    From the zone of frigid clime,
    Our destination already well known,
    We took the route we had earlier flown.

    Everything seemed quite in order
    Till we reached our destination's border,
    When we saw a change never-before-seen-
    An atmosphere foggy, stinging and unclean.

    We did not know where we were
    For it was impenetrable smog everywhere,
    Our intuition told us, our destination it was,
    But we couldn't find our accustomed spot, alas!

    With our eyes stung and lungs choked,
    We at once our decided plans revoked,
    We reversed our path, away from the smog
    Which was deadlier than the common fog.

    Death would be certain, we realised,
    With our struggling lungs paralyzed,
    It was better to die at home in cold
    Than to die in an alien land uncondoled.

    So back we are in the frigid zone-
    Our own land and home well known
    To suffer the extremes of cold,
    If we survive, a new story will unfold.


    Raghav R
    06.12.2021
    ©raghavendran