Tis the last week of golden October,
When the summer season heat took its flight.
The bountiful rain set the dust with might,
To drizzle again in mid-November.
A spell of magic haunts this ancient land.
Sailed they, The Raptors, to the cosy south
Leaving their icy breeding ground in north
To rest their long flight on this festal land.
Equipped with their flashes and their fold;
Watchers in numbers come to this land called
Amur Falcon capital of the world.
Who have not seen them numbered in millions
They visit this enchanting land to roost
Relishing our impatient eyes to boost,
Brief is their stay on their soft swift pinions.
In complex shapes and euphoric dances,
Like a tired sojourner,they dive in
To taste the nectar of this fecund inn’
In great numbers like imps with their prances
After which, they settle bending the trees
To roost before the calm starry night breeze,
Sheltered in the wings of this merry land.
Clad in their ash grey armoured apparel
Like royal warriors on a battle field;
The great host came, wave after wave, to tilt
The eager folks in asunder to trail
Abounding cultures they saw on their way,
But the warmth of this land they resist not.
Their chirping and twittering is the note
Produced to accept our welcome their way.
What good tidings and blessings in essence
Do these raptors bring forth with their presence?
Oneness, Bond of friendship and Unity.
Leonard Mozhui
