A mother’s love

The waters of the lake,

Glistening under the mid-morning sun,

Still, and not running so deep,

Bordering the fringe, the greens ever so thick,

Barely any light emanating amongst the foliage,

Lying half immersed, as lifeless as the rock beside it,

The one armed crocodile,

Bidding its time for a catch or two,

Kept me wondering, an arm lost:

Could it be?

Space domination, hunger pangs, vying for a partner ,

Protecting its young one or merely something else?

As the boat moved further,

With the boatman goading us to ,

Enjoy the sights of egrets, cormorants, storks,

And yet other migratory birds,

A sight so warm and deep,

And yet taken for granted,

Of a mother painted stork,

A beauty by herself,

With colourful wings

Of pink, black, yellow, white,

Resolving a fight amongst her kids,

Trying to be impartial and teaching ,

Lessons of sharing and brotherhood,

Caught…