Saturday, August 17, 2013

Three Months


A rain drop still lingers

On the tip of a green leaf

Long after the dark clouds

Have dispersed from the sky;

Like the drop that shimmers

In the corner of your eyes,

Silent, out of season, and beautiful;


The first leaf breaks free, quite unnoticed,

Like the first boy back in school

After a particularly long vacation;

Soon the quiet hills will resound

With the cries of those yet to come

The forest that is yet to wake;


Steaming tea in hand I watch

The wind blow through the green valley

Singing a tune that must resonate

With the young saplings of oak and Birch:

They sway and flutter fiercely.

They shake and tumble with the wind.

If they were not rooted,

They too would fly.

Diptesh Ghosh

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