Poem Hunter
Ganga Sagar
JS (November 9,1947 / Calcutta)

Ganga Sagar

Prince of gamebirds and master of crooked flight, the snipe
the sea at dusk brought in as prisoner
looked at me with bright obsidian eyes
gently refused food and clumsy care
and was dead by morning.

I had shot many like it in my day.
I had prayed this little one would fly away.

User Rating: 5,0 / 5 ( 1 votes ) 2

Comments (2)

It is really heartbreaking when you can't save a creature. Anything to do with birds and animals seems to be more heart rendering. Sincerely Ernestine Northover
As with all your poems here, this says so much more than its words. You were there; we are there.