Brownish grey yellow billed
Babbling beaks joyous filled
With them around silence is gone
Have never seen them coming alone.

To pep up the world sent by heaven
They forage in flock of six seven
Never they break the brotherly band
Hence seven brothers called in my land.

In my surround they sprinkle joys
Prance and dance make cheery noise
When spring comes these feathered guests
In mango tree build chaotic nests.

I love to see their mock war game
Two males fighting for winning dame
I welcome them so long they stay
Give me good times a brighter day.

yet we breathe

carrying like medals
tokens of being alive
food clothes
needs more and more
coming in and out of door
sleeping awake
through midlife blues
lost jobs
broken hearts
unkept vows
groping in the dark
dim-lit days
cathartic nights
masked social
torn in the upheaval
tearing within
making poems our ailment's remedy
our ink's flow
a placebo
the poet's might
a myth.

yet we breathe.