Wrapped in white heavy snow
the tree still stands tall
bearing the weight of the season
it will endure and not fall.

The wind freezes the soul
sun shies away below the horizon
all animals gone, hidden in some hole
green becomes a shade only in a dream.

The day will come when once again
the squirrel will chase up the bark
leaves will rustle in gentle breeze
and kids will fill up the park.

Once again a tired traveler
will find shelter in it's shadow
the tree will again rise and glow
and reward the hungry for their endeavor.

The snow has stopped us all,
but the warmth is close by
when the world will be in motion
and for that fine day
the tree still stands tall
and
*it will endure and not fall

Play of colors
by nature
seldom happens in transition
of one hue to another.
Every feature
has a distinct shade
from the brown soil
the clear blue river
to grass's green shiny blade.
The chaos of colors
amalgamate into a tune
forming a melody
a raga of fortune.
Wind blows away
the sand that never settled
new paths made and broken
where the sky meets the sand dune.
When the leaf loses its charm,
and falls on the earthy ground
creates ways for travelers to follow
a path filled with uncertainty
with an attitude never so yellow.