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Leaves


This is in response to the prompt from this blogpost:

The Friday Reminder and Prompt for #SoCS June 22/19

This is the first time I am participating and I am not at all sure how it has turned out.But yes, I did type this in as closely as I formulated my thoughts .

“Leaves leave beautiful impressions in my consciousness .They speak of Nature’s infinite variety , of beauty , of life itself, the very source from which everything else emanates. They are magical , trapping the streams of sunlight into their being with immense love for everything else that is in existence on this planet and synthesising the energy that sustains every ecosystem.
They throb with sensitivity, fluttering in the breeze, exulting in the sun , catching the glints and smiling in the reflected glory .The hues of green, each different from the other as are their contours and textures. Each revels in its uniqueness without any sense of competition or conflict , confident of its own worth and its place under the sun.

Each ages gracefully, turns yellow , flutters and falls and waits unhurriedly to become one with the earth. Waits, till it finds its way through the sap that gives life to another form of flora .
And so the cycles go on of renewal and beauty and joy and trust in the laws of a compassionate universe.

 
6 Comments

Posted by on June 23, 2019 in Nature

 

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The tree


dying tree

The towering tree was sick
It’s branches brittle and leaves turned yellow
It’s spirit like a trembling wick
It’s roots so weak in the soil turned shallow.

The gnawing termites kept on and on
The dark thick trunk was a gaping hollow
The grass around and the homing birds
Sat with drooping heads and mood so mellow

Half asleep and half awake
The tree swayed laboriously and so slow
The sap still seeped through memories
In the hushed hours of twilight glow.

 
6 Comments

Posted by on July 24, 2014 in Poetry

 

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Beyond the Open Windows


There beyond the open windows
Is another world
I’ve looked around and smelt the air
Before I turned
Humming a tune ,telling myself
That it wont be long
Before I wound up my day’s work
And joined the throng
Of the rooted grass below the trees
And the sparkling dew
The breast of flowers where bees suckled
Before they flew.
There beyond those open windows
I have my place
And I know that Life’s a circle
Not a linear race.

 
1 Comment

Posted by on June 26, 2012 in Poetry

 

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