The dance before their death

At a relaxed green evening,
While diving in a natural hot spring,
Where there was not a big natural fire burning,
I spotted some rare kettle flying below nettle silver clouds.

They landed,
And my prayer was answered.
They were jostling, hissing, and singing,
I was dancing.


Some were urinating,
Some were feeling the cold,
Some were in hardcore,
Some in moan.

The scene set the best natural thetre,
It had everything from heaven to earth,
Feeling disguised - left the theatre in the second half mid,
For they filled my heart till my head earlier than the completion of their spell.

Night was peaceful but the morning was not so - it was tragic!

Returned to spring the following  morning for I missed  to collect left out plumage as a souvenir; all I saw there were carcasses!

It was bloody Sunday,
I call it my aesthetic Doomsday.
Dew grasses were crying
Ignorant farmers were smiling.

Being an ornithologist,
You are not a natural perfectionist.
The cause made my heart melt like cow ghee put on the frying pan of anger,
But at night there were no thunderstorms!

With a sigh, all i will have,
With diclofenac pyre, the frozen memory of those god's angel dancing loving birds cannot be melted out from my holy bosom !

ParthaRock