THE RIFLE AND THE FLUTE

I took my rifle and l went
to nearby forest birds to hunt.
When l got there, l saw a bird
whose chick fell down through sad event.

The hen was flying with a cane;
it hovered where its chick was thrown.
It urged the chick to perch on it,
but it was too young to have known.

I held the chick and placed in nest,
and its mum set its mind at rest.
It twittered and gave me the cane
and flew to nest with heart so blessed.

I threw my rifle on the ground,
returned with that gift in my hand,
with a happy heart that blessed my act,
and a cane on lips with greatest sound.

BY JOSEPH ZENIEH