Rustles of fallen leaves
Sprouting from bare tree twigs,
With hues & colors of Spring amid receding Winter;
They appear as exotic buds of green leaves
And slowly open their eyelids,
To see the light of the world.
More the days pass with jugglery of nature,
More their eyelids widen;
To take the shape of tender leaves.
They render mind-blowing slow dances,
Paired with blowing gentle breeze yonder.
With the touches of gusts and gales of summer tempest
They stand firm with nature's string of endurance.
Rhythm of their dance pairing the blasts of strong wind
Sound loud to louder,
As the throws of wind get strong to stronger.
With the full bloom they drape empty standing trees,
By their shinning green shrouds;
And provides cool shades to humans,
Seeking bliss in blistering sunny days.
They ornament trees and live together green & young,
Until such time they fade and turn grey;
With the cycles of nature's changing face;
And fall to the ground from towering height
To rustle with the fond touches of whispering wind.
With rustling on the ground, dry leaves fix their gazes
In whimpers, to tree tops to view ethereal magic & beauty
How baby leaves sprout anew on branches & twigs;
Where the fallen dry leaves once had their blissful niches
In their bubbling days of youth shaping greenery abound.
The poet is a former civil servant