The Desolated Greatness
The brooding copse of archaic place,
where many stories lived and died,
rapturous and dismal both interlace,
to charm all, as in thousand hearts it resides.
Where peacock fawn, to win the mate,
and nightingale sing surmised
and where brown-recluse spider wait,
and search its life disguised.
The echoed heaven, with multitude
of songs and cries,
of birds in solitude
or in group as they flies.
The squirrels jump and pop around,
and enjoy the april scene,
as all of them ecstatic found,
with all hearts eager, all eyes keen.
The fragrance was in the air
of full blown flowers and old
which drops here and there
cries, hopes and become cold.
The winnowing winds of adjacent field,
ruffles the hairs of indolent calves
which nothing now can yield,
but deplete the fodder to halves.
Pinkish flamingoes grace the lake
which dips and uplifts
its beak in serene water, and take
the required and drifts.
The trodden path midst this greatness
reminds us of its splendid past
and also of nature's creativeness,
which is only left at last.