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Brevity of seasons, of life

Whenever I step out for a walk, I am claimed by someone else. With each and every new walk that I take, this feeling only gets deeper. Like how last evening, I was possessed by the brevity of seasons. By the brevity of beauty in one form, but which nevertheless gets transformed in no time. Look at the trees outside. They are in an ambitious burst of green. They celebrate green like there are no tomorrows. The trees; at least the ones unaffected by strong winds and erosion make it a point to stand upright and salute the sun, everyday, irrespective of the measurable impact of sunshine, whether the rising sun tinges the sky crimson or not, or it leaves the crestfallen sky in bleeding hues as it bids farewell for the day. They don’t fret over the ever changing expressions of the sun or sky. Like, I wonder why yesterday the horizon looked very different from today, when the sun decided to come up the horizon. But, the trees don’t bother.

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They have come

How can I not celebrate?
How can I not rejoice?
For they have come
Much awaited, much loved,
But they took their own time
As if to tell us something
That we mustn’t take them for granted
It feels like April was here long ago
But not Spring, the most elusive one
Across the window, what was a bare wall;
With a few barren bushes juxtaposed against
Is today in a burst of sunshine
With the Forsythia friends in full bloom
I step into the patio,
To take in the beauty around,
And I am overwhelmed!
The browned grass turned green in a night
How could they not cheer up?
For the rains came down last night
With such passion, such vivacity
Showering new life on them aplenty
They say, the longer the wait, the sweeter it is
When the moment of fulfillment comes.

Image

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An Eager Spring, An Earnest Walk

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 of 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 ourselves that we must do more walks soon.

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A leaf, a cocoon

dried leaf

Is it a last leaf clinging to the bleak branch?
A valiant warrior from agonizing yesterdays,
Distraught with the ruthless winter that just went by
Or, is it a cocoon dangling and dancing?
A dried up casing from the outside;
But a receptacle of life; throbbing and thriving

Is it going to fall for an early spring breeze?
And embrace the earth, to become one with it?
Or is it going to stay put till it’s time comes?
To metamorphose into a winged wonder
Is it a pale remnant of a cold past?
Or a resilient reminder of the promise of life

Is it a mistaken attempt to hold on?
Instead of graciously accepting the coming of time
Is it yet another marvel of creation?
An unraveling of the mystic of life?
Or, a mere hint that looks can be deceptive,                                                       That we must look beyond the obvious.

(image courtesy: brucelaisterphotography.wordpress.com)