Every morning in my garden I see
A fluttering gentle little soprano
Humming the song of her life
Hovering around seductive colours
Tasting, sipping nature’s recipe
Fluttering wings, ****** heart beat
Waltzing in midair to a melody so sweet
Happy to be alive, genuflecting for gifts of life

Every morning in my garden I pray
I wish what she wished was a reality
Not an illusion, a self delusional creation
Her happiness momentary, squashed in infancy
Hawks, raptors, eagles await in anticipation
With scythes in their hands…
Sharpening them, vying with each other
Whose morsel shall she be
I wish what she wished was a reality

For her will there be a tomorrow …?