Cuckoo

Far away in a land torn with war, she looked for a home. She was not as pretty as doves adorning lush gardens, as exuberant as ducks to play with,neither as useful as pigeons in war. The lonely little cuckoo flew from burnt trees to desolate orchards. A black bird with yellow spots on her feathers that other birds found ugly. She looked for a home where she'd be accepted for who she was. The world hurled poisonous arrows at her. Wounded, she fell in a garden waiting to die until two little human hands cocooned her. A girl nursed her agony and made her feel loved. All her sorrow began to melt and pour as rain on the fiery land. She cried with her heart, her honeyed voice, never heard before. The little girl danced in joy and kissed her wings to let her fly but little cuckoo sang to a world lost in pain, her music blooming pink buds, rushing through blue rivulets, swaying branches with soothing wind, caressing parched souls, raising spirits of warriors with hope. She stayed for love, ecstatic at her newfound lilac tune. She'd found home in a land torn with w ar to dr en ch it wi th h e r di vi ne s o ng. July 11, 2020 Bird Poetry Contest Sponsor: Constance La France ~Winner: 1st Place ~Poem of the Day: July 13, 2020 ~Ranked #3 in Best New Poems for July 2020