The Nest on My Window Sill

She flitted across the branch
to the window sill
with twings in her beak
and a motherly air;
and soon enough:
a cozy little nest,
tightly weaved,
of feathers and twigs
and an assortment of things
with a small hollow in the centre.
The mynah sat there for days.

Small blue eggs
appeared suddenly
in that hollow.
The mynah,
still a little fat,
flew in and out,
hovering protectively,
glaring suspiciouly
at the miscreants
dared to interfere with
her labour of love

A few days later...........
Tiny voices,
sqeals, maybe chirps:
some where inbetween
filled the room.
Thin delicate necks
craned for food
and pink hairless heads
peeked out to receive
the nourishment of worms
that would give them
strength in their voices and wings.

The birds flew out,
leaving but one behind.
The nest was pushed out
of the window sill.