An eager spring, an earnest walk

                                              (image courtesy: http://www.thewritinglifetoo.com)

The day before, I walked to the library with my eight year old. At the end of the walk, as we were returning with a small collection of books and a bunch of vegetables from the farmer’s market, my son proudly said; ‘We should do more of these walks, Amma, instead of always taking the car and polluting the environment.’ Though he made that statement at the lark of the moment, upon unexpected discoveries that gave him great joy and a whole lot of fresh air, I think he meant it.

During our short walk, we stopped by the bramble bushes and trees, the ones lining the busy roads, witness to all the city cacophony, all seemingly barren from a distance, but eager to burst out into yet another season, one of life and iridescent colors. Upon prying them with our eager eyes, we spotted millions of pointed buds, hard, but throbbing with life, dark on the outside, but a reservoir of shades. We looked closer and spied a shade or two on them; some green, some a passionate hue of pink, and still some others purplish.We bent a bit to look at a lowly twig, and stood on our toes to touch a bud on a higher branch. It was an unparalleled experience. We resisted the idea of clicking pictures, just so that we could live in the moment to the fullest.

As we entered the road that lead to our apartment, we also spotted a bird’s nest, nestled on a naked tree. Even from a distance, the nest looked vulnerable with absolute dearth of foliage to offer it any comfort or shade. In the frosty winter winds that just went by, agonizingly for months on end, the nest would have shuddered. Was it then, an abandoned one; we wondered. Other than a squirrel nibbling on crumbs on bread thrown off the patio by a resident eager to feed, we didn’t spot any action in the vicinity. No fluttering of wings, no twittering of songs. Of course, we know birds don’t always stay by their nests, the way we do 🙂 We then looked for feathers under the tree, at least one that would give us an idea of the bird house owner or tenant, but we found none.

We chatted our way home, about the sights and sounds, and promised to ourselves that we must do more walks soon.

Spring Sojourners

At the winding curve,
Where the road splits into two;
The narrower one leading me home,
Amidst the browned stubble on both sides,
My eyes met a delicate deer’s
It’s winter coat plusher,
It’s tail bushier,
It’s eyes opened wide in some new found happiness,
It’s ears upright, gathering sounds in swift eagerness,
It’s sight reinforcing my dream
An early spring may I behold,
Has been the prayer on my lips
Happy I woke up this bright February morning,
With a noisy flock of winged wonders,
Twittering by my window side
Thronging at their new bird house in my patio,
For their share of morning grain
Their songs fall not on my ears,
But on my eager heart
The little songsters of spring dance not
On the wooden handrails of my piazza
Rather in the insides of my soul
As they excitedly flap their wings,
Incessantly in the late winter chill,
They warm the airs around them
Ushering in an early spring
Melting any winter despair left
In the stillness of cold yesterdays.

 

 (Image courtesy: home.comcast.net)

A few of my rapturous rides

( Image courtesy: bleeding–roses.deviantart.com )

I see peacocks dance right in front of my eyes,

They tease me in quiet; remind me of my inadequacies,

Their feathers; a million kaleidoscopes streaming,

Tell me you are kidding, as am not the one to feel it

Belittlement is not in my scheme of things, ever

So you better tether them together and keep them safe

 

Shadows numerous. They pace up and down the windows

In silence, they are eloquent, filling me up with sweet things

They are inviting, they are soothing, and they are peaceful

In their vibrancies, I soak in, taking in as much as I can

Mere dancing leaves; but together, their shadows magical

Wait for me, don’t go away my friends, be there in a bit

 

Mount Sinai beckons. I start my climb up in pious anticipation

Lightning strikes in passionate bursts, thunder trumpets and roars

Smoke and dust whirr and whirl, my heart starts to pound as well,

Heat begins to swell, my face begins to glow, and light shimmers atop

My feet carry me faster, disrupting my notions of faculties my own

In the glowing grandeur, I reach the zenith, and revel in an encounter uncommon

 

Precious moments

Sitting by my window side,
Comfortably on my couch,
Reading a book to my brat,
Watching sparrows throw a fit,
For little remnants of grain
Listening to their shrill trill,
Short and sweet and pure,
Looking at them,
Bend their little heads,
Sipping from their earthen cup,
Looking up every now and then,
For a possible hunter
Soon returning to the water,
With singular caution though
Remembering to look up again;
“Is anyone spying me as yet?
Did the curtain move a wee bit?
Or is it just my fearful illusion?
These grains they are so good
Can I just sink my beak in there?
But who will keep an eye on’em?
Did I hear footsteps, one or two?
A hushed whimper of the wood?
Click sounds, shutter bugs,
They are after me you know”
As they muse and mutter,
My brat runs out of patience,
Dashes to the French window,
Pulls the curtains apart rashly
Sputtering a sharp chip note,
They take swift flight
Didn’t even bat an eyelid I
Then dug into the couch in bliss
Closed my eyes for scenes to replay
Wrote these lines in my heart
My tomorrows are richer thus
Thanks to my vibrant todays.

Coffee Flowers

This morning, as I was brewing coffee,
With none other than quiet for company,
I went back in time, to a beautiful village
Where coffee flowers bloom aplenty

Mid-mornings, then, I stepped outside,
Just to walk under their canopies
Lush and green, peppered with white blossoms,
Their surreal sight lent me joy unbound

Under the heat of the summer sun,
Some flowers turned half naked;
Their petals fatigued and fallen off the boughs,
Rested in the cupped hands of Earth

My feet tread on petals white,
Rather off white, as they start to wither,
Cushioning my tired feet as I wander,
Under their thickets invigorating

Their fragrance irresistible,
I know not how to describe it,
I feel taken away from my brethren,
Away to my world whimsical

Such times I have lost count,
For the moment the flowers I behold,
I depart my mundane existence in gaiety,
As my soul glides o’er glades and hills

I then dream about the cycle of life;
When flowers make way to fruits green,
Moving on, they embrace a hue of colors bright,
Succulent yellows and fiery reds

The coffee berries celebrate life,
As they bask in glory surreal
Very soon, they get ready to bid good bye
To the tree that gave it life real

As the tree rejoices,
In the joy of a task well done,
The berries bid farewell,
To embrace another day, another life.

Long winter

                                                  (image courtesy: blossomshopblog.com)

It has been a really long winter. Today, the 25th of March, 2013. Morning is here. The Sun is increasingly shy at this hour. Hiding behind thick clouds. Clouds; hoarders of snow. It’s going to snow today. Again? Yes. That’s what the weather-channel says.

The grass is simply brown. Many of us miss it being green. When will it turn to its true colours?

The trees are bare. The branches seem brittle. But the roots continue to hold them together. Skeletal structures against a clandestine sky?

Birds. They have started returning. To still-bare trees, empty branches, browned grass, brooks that don’t exist. Flowers that don’t bloom. Buds that haven’t yet appeared.

Squirrels. Their winter sojourn has ended. Their winter supplies run out. They run hither thither for petty morsels. For daily existence. The oaks are silent, still and secretive. No sign of leaves. Then, when will they start their acorn shower?