A sleek silhouette against the sky,
On pointed wings, the travellers fly.
With blue-grey coat and striped breast,
A hawk-like form that knows no rest,
From northern woods to southern sands,
They trace the lines of distant lands.
Deep in the thicket, reed, and tree,
They feast where others fear to be,
On toxic larvae, hairy threat—
A natural guard, a sweeping net
That cleans the canopy and bough,
To shield the forest and the plough.
Yet when the pairing seasons start,
They play a cold, adaptive part.
No woven home, no cradling crest,
They seek a stranger’s hidden nest;
A single egg is left behind,
To rely on hosts, deceived and blind.
The phantom hatchling, swift to wake,
Will claim the space, the modern stake,
And cast away the rightful heir
To dominate the foster care—
A master of a ruthless art,
A wild, unyielding, lonely heart.
