The Yellow Weaver (Free Verse Sonnet) Poem by Gert Strydom

Shot from a branch of a fig tree
by a BB pellet by the boy
I picked the yellow weaver up
where it was shocked,
felt its anxiety while it was in my hands
where fear pulsed through that small bird's body
just ruffled by the closely passing pellet
it did twittering grope into the air
accelerated wing-beat after wing-beat
circled once over me
and in anger took the pellet-gun
away from the boy
as I had taught him not to shoot
at any living thing.

© Gert Strydom