A Flutter Of Perturbation

An unfelt breeze brushes across the land,

Weighted with dust, seeds, pollen and sand.

Pollen stuck on the legs of a fly,

Which soon perches upon an oak's flower high.

New to blooming the flower received,

The pixie dust from which its meant to be conceived.

Given a month maybe another,

A acorn we see - a squirrel's supper.

Treading across from bar to bar,

The fruit it picks to devour.

Gorging upon the flesh of his prize,

He flings the seed which he does despise.

The seed reaches out to a nearby stream,

Drifts away like an unmemorable dream,

The destination which beckoned comes into story,

Brushed onto the land to become a sapling yet unweary.

Several years of reaching to the sky,

The mature being is no longer a fry.

Standing tall with a hole in the trunk,

Look how deep the roots have sunk.

Shelter not one but for many a creature,

The hole of the oak is a habitation feature.

Insects, moths and squirrels alike,

Till one find day a cobra finds it his delight.

Shelter food and free from cold,

The cobra resides venomous and bold.

"Timber" a young hefty lumberjack yelled,

And all in all the oak was felled.

The wood transported overseas,

With hole and snake - they will not be pleased.

For moving a species to another land is quite unwise,

The folk of the harbor are in for a surprise.

Out moves the cobra upon reaching the terminal,

Find a mate did he to start an upheaval.

Eggs in hundreds, thousands over time!

An unplanned army. The perfect crime.

As darkness descends upon the ground,

The slitherers move without a sound,

Enveloping across the land in masses,

Nature's genocide - as the reaper passes.

And then what was to be seen,

But still bodies with crimson upon green.

The plague that wrecked havoc across the set,

Was the outcome of the butterfly effect.

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Harish Iyengaar

Featured on Poetic Voices on 29th November, 2010