The things around fascinate me.
They hold me in a glee.

The neem trees shed their leaves.
They look bare as though in a grief.

The twigs appear brown
snap and fall down.

The fall of its tiny flowers
is likened to a shower.

They create a carpet of pale green.
They lie without a sheen.

The tree drops its fruits in scores
emanating a pungency in a close.

The neem tree is God’s gift to man
effective in its stand.