The Lovebirds (1)
The gold disc had gradually turned silver with blinding beams that pierced through spaces in the overly green foliage of the jungle. The dewdrops were spirited away. Though baking above the outer layer of the leafage, it was comfortably cool below. Isang was sitting on a comfy spot on the bough of an African oil bean tree preening himself. The tree was quite leafy with its dark brown pods dangling from twigs. Now and then, a pod popped open and the seeds were scattered about. They dropped in the vast thicket below, slapping the leaves and branches of shrubs before thudding on the ground. A stream nearby was gurgling, a songbird was singing and the big birds were soaring above, cawing, as they searched in all directions for brunch. Isang had to groom himself as in a few minutes he was heading to meet his fiancee and her retinue of fun-loving friends whom he had promised to take out for lunch. (This is a long-standing tradition of lovebirds. They would whistle and mimic other ...