An Eaglet-Furry

During cold days in pristine place,

heavy rainy season.

The cold as ugly gore and shrinks tightly; assembled as disguise form.

The balmy air blows and each Moment of gladness!

In a 'Niche-Market,

a hen lives more comprehensively.

Her eyes gleam in the dark-moon light.

Eggs are fragile as 'Mothe Hen' lies in coop,

till they become brave.

In twisted pain did they rise,

Shepherd blessings on bosom

Progeny.

Not even gears at her 

gabby feet.

Chickens rest on trees, 

sing a song: 'shall we live long?

Now, they are vain of their faith, 

go away from their yard.

As bright as they are, everyone feels odd.

Again sing a song under the shadow of the trees:' shall we live long? 

but some cooky birds Steal their fruits.

They fall into the ground away,

The leaves of plants change their colours into their yellow- pale.

 This suddenly happens at the arrival of an

Eaglet -furry.

His hawk-eyed scared

Them like the dance of mountain of volcanic eruption.

Not show a single groan in nightmare thereof.

The twig grade vigorously,

But it's glossy leaves fall down 

Into mud. 

All creatures recollected in morass. 

The love for taste remorseless, 

a fake babble charmed alarm.

Mourns at some scrubbing!

Some hang on the ' Bleeding Trees'

Not knew others where they would be?

Thinks about...

Hailstones from the Skyward fall.

 Hen screams till the falling rain to wash sins off!!

Sins are burden off in tears!