The garden was stocked with fallen leaves,
Gathering them up was a task in a fleece,
There was an uninterrupted fall from trees,
Leaves came down slowly after a gentle breeze.
Green and yellow leaves lay scattered without a cease,
Twigs small and big landed down in the crease,
They made the garden look like a messy freeze,
Inadvertently it seemed an entertainment set to please.
Cleaning up was a target beyond reach,
Finding a team was a difficult breach,
The work had to be done with a screech,
As there was no time to impeach.
Like the dry leaves thoughts crowd
The mind quivers in a desperate shroud,
Sprucing it up seems to be a task loud,
Resuming equanimity is like a falling cloud.
The imbalance strikes hard mercilessly,
Reviewing it generates apprehension enormously,
Yet gardens could be swept and cleaned spotlessly,
But the mind withholds the trials though not erroneously.
Meenas Poems 