TOUCHING THE  PEEPUL

As I touch the Peepul again

Under a morning mist’s rain

Birds alight from its lofty tops

To peck at my heart’s old pain ;

For their feed of daily morning dose

In my dreaming blood’s subtle grain,

When the Goddess is still in her sleep

Leaving us to a life so very uncertain !

What can I do now except watch

Time’s white herons swoop down

To pick from fresh quarries,

With butterflies roving around scattering

Dust of their hidden glories,

On flowers half asleep most of whom

Are in a long dreaming  spree,

Love that was born tied to chains

Is now absolutely frolicsome and free;

This is the beauty of being besotted

With life under a beautiful Peepul tree.

@COPY RIGHT : SAROJ K. PADHI-- 07/03/15