Trees with huge branches
stay dumb like big stone walls,
leaves do not flutter nor rustle
with a whiz, tweets of birds
cannot be heard.
Could this be a premonition?
I wonder. Anything
hazardous is on the anvil,
I deliberate. Nothing at all
it is hallucination haunting,
I reconcile. Lost in thoughts
recalling the day when
I felt the breath of life.
when I experienced the
spirited cheer. I sigh.
When will those return?
I peek through the window,
curious to find if there
is any activity. I track a
swift movement.
far away in the backyard, I see
a squirrel hovering with
a penchant, a butterfly
circumambulating a red rose
Life back again.
Meenas Poems 