Seclusion under the foliage
Enchants me amidst wild melody.
Bowing blossoms give me homage
In the afternoon breezy.
Wood is fresh as virgin of village;
It’s chill puts out all embers softly.
Woods and hills are lovely so;
Spend a week there I wish I could.
Farms in woods are pensive so;
Scatter my seeds I wish I could.
In the darkness, fireflies flash and out go;
Return with thought fruits I wish I could.
Soon all my wishes are milled,
While all clutched the mind under.
Again, down the hill I am pulled
By some gravitation power.
I am always thus pulled
To the same busy corner.
(For 'Woodland Path contest by Constance)
FABIYAS M V