Being a tree...

The tree was strong and full of branches spread
Like a myth wide enough to cause
The moon takes a little nap perhaps
Tired as she was wandering about the cauldron of the sky...

And those little birds who with all fondness
Built their nests with twigs and twines
At the ys and xs of the branches full of solid wood thick
Must have gone to sleep...
And the sweetness of the mystic fog
Had long since woven with deftness
A curtain...around the tree...

I looked at her grandmotherly
Attitude...saree spread as if
For tiny despondent travellers
To take a nap or a yawn...
And sitting right there I got the feel of her roots
Deep deep into the earth...
Underneath I knew there were branches as well...
Going to different places...groping perhaps in the dark
In search of water...
In search of life saving elements...
That's the being I dreamt once
To imbibe...
The being of a tree...

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