Fallen
After migration,
The land is bare and deserted,
A shadow of itself,
Stripped of its beauty.
Walking through the woods,
There is no sight of colourful fluttering wings,
The ambience is unfriendly,
I could only hear the whistling sound of a lonely wind.
I could see the foot works of
animals hidden beneath fallen trees and twigs,
They have journeyed in search of a new home,
I could hear nature's call for help.
Like water to a duck,
Every living thing desires a home,
We delight in pleasurable abodes,
Insensitive to nature’s cry.
October 30, 2022.
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