This Autumnal Sway On The Plant.
The tawny, sturdy
stalks of the plant
already Started
crying
a sylvan dirge .
The slow weaning
eco cells
Send out an
urgent note of
SOS
to its surroundings.
Blowing winds are not
Harbingers of
Peace or Growth.
The purple flowers
,fragranced sweet,
are unhappy to leave
their homes.
The thinned leaves
almost
powdered ,ready to undergo
Crucifixion on
the ground.
The accustomed ,seasoned birds
Still come and
go on this lone tree.
After all they
are different
from human beings.
No comments:
Post a Comment