Purple-rumped Sunbird

From the edge of a lush mango tree, 

       Covert, on a twig, covered by paisley leaves,

 A pair of smudged purple-yellow sunbirds, 

        Still as seeds, eyed our potted jasmine plant.

 

They considered building a home on it.

     All odds weighed, they picked this ‘site’ -

The fourth branch from the apex, to their left, my right, 

     With me behind glass doors, nest sheltered from wind, 

 

The heat and us.  The fist-sized purple-rumped sunbird, 

        Mother to be, built a hanging nest, unkempt, 

But admirable.  One by one, she had beak-lifted

         Coils of hair, a string, dry grass and cobwebs.

 

She assessed her home, from the mango tree arbour,

      Sitting camouflaged; or mid-way to the nest, 

Hovering, erect in the air, with the joy of a homecoming,

        Beating wildly - to obscurity - her wings.

 

She came back with waddings in her long beak,

        The decorative lichens, more dry grass and leaves!

She worked these in as she forged their home! Again, 

        She took in her finished work, now with her mate. 

 

When unmindful I strayed out to smell the jasmine,

      The sunbird struck back. She called, swift and sharp:

All is not safe! She announced a withdrawal.

      Her activities stopped and her flight-path changed.

 

Then, she returned again, bringing us some hope.

      But, as intent as when building, twig by twig,

Hair, fibre, grass, all in three days, she took that nest

      Elsewhere.  Her tweets have ceased ever since.

 

We miss the sunbird’s home in ours, her games,

       The disappearing wings aflutter, the chew-it calls,

Her beady eyes fixed upon the starry jasmine shrub.

        In her brave, new world, there is no room for chance.