Gone

A little clump of trees
on the margins of a village,
A last refuge for 
some birds, squirrels, lizards and reptiles,
A mere dot of a forest,
A mere drop of green in the natural ocean
carrying a tiny essence of
the raw face of nature,--
Playful chirps, survival game,
hunting, mating, nestmaking,
dying, births--everything.
The sparrows raised 
the songs of dawn and dusk,
The little haws and coucal hunting till late,
The squirrel stole eggs,
The angry tailorbird threw abuses,
The cat too leapt for chance grabs,
The snake slithered around,
The peacock kept a stern watch,
The robins, rockchats, sparrows, flycatchers,--
the denizens of this tiny glimpse of a forest,
Lovemakings,
Births, 
Deaths,
A composite life 
throbbing with varied, chirpy excitement.
Then the humans again felt the need
for more land,
Arrived the clawy hand,
The mighty earthmover raged the place
with its metallic, predatory brace,
Gone was the little dot of natural grace,
The birds flew away,
The squirrels scurried around,
A snake with a futile crawl
and the panicked human brawl.
It's all clear now,
Ready for our developmental touch,
Silent mornings without bird songs,
The dusk too settles stealthily
without the goodbying chorus of sparrows,
It's all clear,
Finely levelled,
The wood taken,--
A fine plot 
with economic prospect and financial shot.
A cemented, plastered building will come up,
A stony castle of the human will,
To stand rock firm
against the time,
But I miss the sparrows
and their morning and dusk songs,
I miss that tiny stage 
bearing the raw game of nature
and life
among we humans.