Friday, June 30, 2017



Two pretty bulbuls
Built a little nest.
With dry stalks wound
In and out, round and round,
They shaped it and set it
In a fine ferny pot;
Well hidden it was
In a safe spot.

Lady bulbul she laid
Three eggs so sweet,
Sat upon them a week
With nothing to eat.
Crack, crack – on a morning,
Bony and grey,
Came three tiny bulbuls,
Beaks open all day.
Fed them fat and warmed them,
Did the mother so careful,
While father danced and sang,
Of his duties forgetful.

So the little ones grew,
Balls of fluff, very sweet,
And one day they flew,
Gone – to be a crow’s treat?

©2017 Ruth Heredia

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