It’s dimmed outside.
Birds come back to nets with empty corps,
but with a lot of warmth and compassion.
Their hatchlings and fledglings will sleep hungry tonight.
I can hear their birdsongs though.
Strong wind blows,
across the yard,
and all around the cosy nests.
High deciduous trees rustle,
shuddering me.
Withered dry leaves fall,
reminding me of those humans falling every day,
without saying goodbye to their final autumn,
in my homeland,
in Palestine.

Mohammed Arafat
Nobember 20th, 2019