Tip toeing spring, hoists her electrifying colors again,
All round, with the attendent scents and sounds sublime!
I find myself mulling over the words my dad uttered,
Etched deep in my psyche, when we were still tiny tots!
"It's each one of us that makes them do it,
The birds on these trees around us, sing"
He made it mysterious, but it rang a bell, revealed things,
We realized each little deed of us, did impact the world.
I see the honeybees in the beehive are a cosmos themselves,
Their hum, cosmic "Aum" reminds :'You are the universe'
Mom goes out and fills all water containers to the full,
She does this every now and then, very dutifully, I can see
We watch with content, birds making a bee line to each
Fly down and drink water to their fill, day in and day out.
My sister goes around the courtyard sprinkling grains,
In plenty, for all the birds regular and new to our farm.
She keeps crumbs, grains, seeds left overs in open containers
At the places they freequent, convenient for avians to partake.
What we in this farm has to offer, whenever they are here.
All for love , exept for the hope of sonorous moments they gift!
On the patio, all of us sit, together, our inner ears open,
As if to listen a serenade, just for us,under the open skies,
The pure silence in the begining, gets sweeter by the minute,
The calves run out of the cow pen mirthfully springing
Seeking their mothers' udder, as they graze out on the green.
The mynahs, together in a tone, affectionate, begin
To chat, about the delights they find in our farmsted, I guess.
The bulbuls and sparrows in a similer mood, quickly join in,
Sing aloud the paeans, perrhaps, who knows, all of us.
Nothing new to us, just routine, followed each season.
Yet we sit as if it's a first, soaking in it's incessent rain,
Moments ethereal, full of nature's soulful music!
Melting in a meditative trance we take it all in,
Oh! how sublime is your music, that envalop us like light.
Big jack fruits, ripened on tall leafy trees,
Exude a dainty scent, most appitizing, it wafts in the air
Hoards of grey squrrirals, it attracts, noisily they descend
As dextrous they are in food finding expeditions on trees ,
Studiously they drill open the big pulpy fruit that hangs heavily,
Skillfully from all sides, as if seking a grand prize hidden in.
Happy chirps, tweets and songs of early birds become
More ecstatic and loud, as time goes by and more join in.
They flit around us, as if to greet and cheer us, becoming bold
As we huddle together feeling closer than ever in their presence.
Our eyes wide open, gleaming bright, hearts full of light,
Grandma who briskly walked past ninety summers,
Happy tears glistenening in her eyes,
Now starts to sing, a lark on her wings..we are overwhelmed!
Transcending joys of many kind, we felt the magic,
Beyond the limits of mind to an intense spot,
A feeling as if we all are gently holding hands,
Floating on the air, sans wings...
Then again I hear the chant, the words my dad uttered,
Who'd never come back again to put us under his spell.
"Spread love around, you'll be fine and the world"
Every bird joined in the chorus, as if to hail his golden words.
Memories from a childhood spent in a farmstead, speak...