One morning in Uncle's woodhouse

Several unidentified birds chirp, 

Woke me up earlier than usual. 

The natural alarm of the woods pleased the ears.

I was still drowsy and perplexed by my state of existence. 

Is it that I awoke or that I am still dreaming?

The dark shadow of night removed 

As the early light enters the room,

As beams that support a structure 

It glows as it reflects off the pine woodhouse. 

I couldn't sleep any longer when nature called. 

Because we are not bestowed on a daily basis

With beautiful tones of birds tweeting. 

Excitement pulls me out of bed.

The night cold had left me with a parched throat 

To talk in a hushed tone 

I opened the backdoor.

The song of birds fills the backyard with joy.

It gives the eyes work to spot 

Birds playing hide and seek in the wild undergrowth. 

It was a busy morning with birds. 

Before they take off on their daily foraging, 

I would try my best to capture them 

Before I have my part of breakfast. 

P.s. It's been three years since I visited my uncle's woodhouse in the Kodaikanal half-mountains, surrounded by coffee, pepper, and orange plantations. According to Facebook memories, I left for Kodaikanal today in 2019 and couldn't stop thinking about my past visits. The poem was inspired by waking up one morning to birds singing.