The missing dance

On their owner’s compound they stayed
And danced to the flute he played
Early in the morning they stayed
As he got ready from where he had lain
In the night under the stars for that day

Around they played in the morning light
They bathed when the branch top suddenly lighted
They flame of danger descending with their noise on high
The noise of the flying caretakers and watchers
Who had seen their flying mate, the devourer.

In haste he flew to fill his plates
Its diamond eyes turned green with hate
As he flew in search a chick to take
And sorrowful the darling hen to make
After the scare of her chicks in that haste

The noise of the little birds came down
As their tiny bodies never touched the ground
The caretakers and watchers of the poor fowl
Blew their trumpets a warning to sound
The untimely death which they frowned

A quick shelter she took after the scare
Under the shade of the tree branches a crowd,
Full of sheep goats and fowls
With the other neighbors and their children to care
Seeing the desperate hawk descend from the clouds

A mother’s tender care never grew dim but bright,
Showed the way when danger starred at the face,
Daring all threats outside the shade
With her whole soul an offering to replace
Her delicate and innocent ones with her life

Out of the shelter
Was she, her chicks and the devourer,
In amazement they scattered around,
Her neighbours starred and watched
As if glued to the ground

An attack from the hawk
A defense from the hen
In the air they met
In a crash after the clash
A battle of survival to fight

In the air away from the hen
The hawk quickly turned,
Again a scatter of cheeks rushing into the shade,
the little birds, their caretakers ,
their noise higher again

a sweep for a chick in an attack,
away into the air again,
the hen has lost again;
bloodless wounds from previous attacks
which for year has accumulate and remained

cries for those victims for years
now like echoes in her ears
the kwi kwi-kwi kwi of her chicks
which has turned bread full of cheese
for the enemies and his kits and keens

he got home when all was
gathered by the hen under the shade, all was
like a funeral gathering full of awe,
a gathering of his goats sheep and fowls
and their silent mournful songs

the sun has long gone down,
the bats and their songs have gone up
in the morning his flute he played
the missing chick , the missing dance
before the normal journey he makes