A cuckoo swoops in, elegant, graceful, adorned in black velvety feathers, a blue sheen to them. And those sharp red eyes. And then a female. She’s dressed differently. Easy to think she’s a different bird. She’s grey-brown with streaks of deep brown through her body. But then, there are those sharp red eyes. He sings for her. She’s unimpressed and moves on. He won’t stop trying all season. Their elegance is juxtaposed against the clumsiness of the pigeons. A group of parakeets chatter in the distance. 

Birds are building homes and starting their families. There are squirrels scuttering about, there are insects and bugs nibbling into the bark of the tree, a butterfly lands on a pink fluffy rain tree flower and then comes a bee. “Please, bee, don’t enter the balcony”, I think.

There is everything. There are meals being shared, eggs being hatched, fights and arguments, seduction and mating, song and dance, just life going on in this ecosystem of The Rain Tree. Do I ever need to watch a movie again?

Like I said, they were always there. Maybe I was too caught up in my phone screen, my own thoughts. Maybe I never opened my eyes. But now, I did. 

So, this is my ode. This is the dance of my paintbrush in celebration of that tree and all the life, in its truest form, that I am honoured to have experienced. I am a new person. I owe it, in large part, to her - The Rain Tree.