Friday, March 23, 2012


The birds have flown to southern lands,
The freshly mown fields lie empty;
The distant hills wear coats of snow,
And not one flower on any tree.

Only the wind that blows from north
Will shake the weeds now standing tall,
And coax the last of hanging leaves,
To shiver, tremble, and then fall.

Diptesh Ghosh

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