By Anjan K Nath
If the Nightingale is the Queen of birds, the Cuckoo, in my opinion, should be regarded as no less. I base this observation/assertion on the singular fact of character and poise of this singular bird.
Sonnet to a Cuckoo
To her nest returning one morn,
Mrs. Robin espies an egg not her own,
Compelled by Mother Nature to sit and incubate,
She resigns herself to the task and contemplate.
Who could this intruder be, she asks;
Surely not another chick’s, or perhaps!
Mr. Robin is in proper control, besides,
He is a good provider and by law abides.
It is rumoured that man, out of cells create
Life and limb and Nature’s plan manipulate!
Shall I, then, refuse to cooperate?
Unlike my cousin who lays, but labours hate!
Oh, Cuckoo, shall I call thee a bird,
Or art thou a manipulator, the politician absurd?