Jackdaw Poem by Padma Devkota

Doused spirit
sheltered under wet wings
pearly-rain-pelted,
he hears the grass sing.

He gives:
his body a shake,
his quills his beak,
the world a glance
which shatters against bricks.

The monotony
of corrugated tin
sends a shudder like a wave.
Flight is delayed.
Freedom's on hold.

If only he could unfold
his wings and caw,
How he would rise above
the rain-soaked clouds!
Poor jackdaw!
Poor, poor jackdaw!