the blind bird

it knows not the break of light,
nor the dawn of darkness,
it sees not where it flies,
yet a branch never misses,
humbly perched,
humming,
like all the rest,
through dangers,
that float up the blue skies,
from claws of the mighty,
to those gnawing beaks of scavengers,
this little blind bird,
hatched with no sight,
survives,
so adorable,
crows respect,
sparrows guide,
an eagle protects,
a little blind bird,
taught by weavers,
now a weave makes,
so artistic a nest,
in harvest times,
the farm invades better,
unconcerned by the scarecrows,
nor the thunder bolting rocks,
a sling does release,
an early waker,
a promise of fat worms always made,
at the first ray fulfilled,
that little blind bird,
in its pink feathers,
on a tree perched,
to warm in the tropical sun,
a guardian of courage,
a keeper of determination,
the little blind bird.

©2011