by M.Mohankumar
When I came, months ago, to this windy city,*
the cherry tree in the backyard was in full bloom.
It was a sight that took my breath away.
I went on gazing at the majesty and splendor
of this tree, decked out, all over, with pink flowers.
The poetry of the earth, I heard myself echoing
the words of the poet. I wondered whether
the earth has anything more fair to show.
whether there could be a lovelier tree
even in Indra’s resplendent garden.
Now, as I get ready, like a migratory bird,
for the long flight south, I look out the window
and see it standing there, bare and skeletal.
But when, in time, it springs back to splendor,
I will be here once again; and then I will not be
content with a distant look, but will get closer.
At sundown, I will sit leaning against its trunk,
beneath its flowery canopy, and, opening Keats’
“Complete poems”- the prize I won, way back,
in the college poetry competition- read out
“Ode to a Nightingale”, among other poems,
the blossoms falling softly all around. Darkling,
I will listen- and listen in vain.
Pic : https://www.flickr.com/photos/batigolix/
*Chicago
