Nature’s Personifications…

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She sits on her haunches
eagerly peering into versatile bay silences
unaware of homecoming delights
of nestlings within rustling leafage,
impatient for constellations to be
sequined on indigo,
while her variegated thoughts
transiently splash themselves
like modern art watercolors on
darkening scowl of azure
and a mandarin sun
leaves its laughter scattered in
evanescing citrus photons
on the visage of marmalade clouds
somewhere a cricket sings
in careless asynchrony of juvenile zest~
she is twilight.

She leaves handprints emblazoned
on cornflower mildness of morn–
resembling lotuses abloom on the sleepy lake,
her smiles are scented in
mysteries of night jasmine’s rendezvous
with the fading moon
and gaucheness of virgin tea-leaves
yet to unfurl chartreuse realms,
she fingerpaints stars on bosoms
of rivers enceinte with restlessness:
despite a deceptive serenity,
fondling drowsy heads of drooping flowers
to awaken them yawning redolently,
while a rooster crows its aubade~
she is dawn.

She brandishes her spatula
in a potpourri of piquant aromas
emanating from her kitchen,
she is a whimsical painter
splashing fiery shades on
fluttering bosoms
of commonplace verdure,
with a topaz moon in her palms,
she softly serenades
the angst of boughs
denuded and silenced
while indifferent sidewalks
preen clad in fireflame verses~
she is autumn.

She has songs
brewing like bleeding tea leaves
within a romantic soul,
with fragrances nurtured
in variegated bowers in her embrace,
she brocades rainbows
on fertile expectations of soil
using an imagination
borrowed from vagrant clouds,
as an innocent voyeur
she witnesses the moon flirting
with shy oysters
hidden within brine turbulences,
she is spring.

She is the exuberance
of a waterfall descending on
silver stilletoes echoing musical notes
on slick mosses of pebbles,
her citrus breath
reminiscent of lemon blossoms
fills freshness in
nostrils of aureate morns,
her oxymoron moods
splatter themselves in
molten kaleidoscopes on
balmy epilogues of daylight
while a cricket strums
evensongs in summer breeze~
she is summer.

She wears her mixed feelings
as the salt and pepper in her hair,
she is the meditation
of snowclad pines on shivering morns,
the lukewarm caress of middle-aged sun
forming chiaroscuros at noon
under the boughs of gulmohur,
the aroma of roasted marshmallows
and foamy cappuccinos,
she is translucence on window-panes
shimmering in sunlight,
with the distant memory
of innocent fingers doodling
thoughts on sighs of boreas,
she is a prismatic snowflake
peppering pragmatic trails,
in chiseled rainbow sonnets~
she is winter.

She showers
liquid benediction on arid earth,
converting puddles into musical chimes,
on grey celestial canvas
her desires blossom in transient vibgyor,
she is nature’s symphony
born on rustling foliage keys,
the ecstasy of a dancing peacock
fanning a turquoise brocade
in the moistness of tissue-paper days,
she is nectar of rejuvenation
breathing life into sinews
of the blistered and withered~
she is monsoon.

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