'Are you kidding me, little minnow'?
The angry osprey utters herself. It's her very first solo attack on lake fishes. 'Mother has taught me enough. It's time to prove myself', confidence is blazing from the tender eyes.
The fish is moving from here to there. The osprey is to follow too. 'Concentration, patience and persistence', the bird finds her key to success.
The game is changing in every fraction of seconds. Suddenly the bird finds the fish stagnant for a while. She turns her neck backward at once, just before nibbling into her head.
It's then when an eagle comes into scene, fixes her beaks across osprey's neck and makes her disappear.
'It's a long time, since I saw the sky, standing beneath it'.
Only one status was enough to create a virtual game. Likes, comments, reactions were just flowing. A storm, it may be!
'Last time we were at Saint Martin's beach. It was a decade ago, perhaps dude. That was my last chance to see the sky. Was it same to you'?
'It is so tough to see my own face at mirror, daily, in this busy metro life. Sky is too distant to watch'.
'Oh bro, poetry infects you, I suppose. Is there any special "dish" tonight? I'm joining right now'.
The winter night was turning colorful to some of the facebook users. The warmth of the blankets was so contagious. A middle aged lady, one of facebook friends too, couldn't avoid seeing the status.
'We share the same city, same building, and same floor. You didn't dare to see my face at a glance for so many days. Sky could be seen through the window. I'm more far away than the sky to you, dear son'.
The eyes of the lady became watery. 'Post' and 'Cancel' were two words glittering before her. Which one to be touched was the dilemma.
It's the deep forest where the little bird was born and grown up. It's her entire world.
'There is another world reigned by a strange standing species having a pair of hands, legs. They can't fly. They are the human'. Mother's story ignites the imagination to see human.
There is a farm just close to the locality. The little bird detects the scarecrow as human.
She approaches to it very cautiously.
'Well, man is very quiet'!
She sits on a hand.
'Wow, he is so inoffensive'!
She nibbles a bit.
'Hurray, he is so friendly'!
The little bird is dancing merrily. Suddenly a bullet transfixes the bird's chest.
Man is so warm, quiet, harmless, friendly creature. It is her very belief before last breath.