Serene lake sleeps with
rippling lullabies hidden within
its lotus scented bosom,
Trees stand tall clad in silver
or varied moods of pink humming rain-songs
to oxymoron whims of chameleon clouds.
Potpourri breeze is scented in caffeine sighs
of dewy tea leaves,
or scent of hursinghars withered at ughten,
or in aroma of rain soaked earth.
Early morning softly reverberates with
grumbled syllables of cooing doves
or dainty chirps of mynahs and sparrows,
Bamboo grooves huddle together
like rustic women gossiping about
shades of dahlias abloom,
dancing peacocks in the woods
and roses shriveled in tempest.
Afternoons are crisp as starched shirts
and tangy like berries
ripening on highest of boughs,
and evenings preen
veiled in versicolor organza of dusk,
sequinned in fireflies
their silence laced in symphonies of crickets.
I dream oft of that land cleansing
its feet in the whirling waves of Brahmaputra,
land of orchids and rainbows
where memories linger of a childhood lost.