The branch droops low

Heavy with Gulmohurs

Their reds bursting

In fiery passion

The old woman

Passes by

Stooped in age

Burnt in grey

The koels sing

Songs of mangoes

As they invade

Summer days

The old man

Twitches and turns

Blinks and drools

Spitting gibberish

A leaf dies

Even as one births

And another yellows


2 thoughts on “Srishti-Sthithi-Laya

  1. My neighbor across the street has a Gulmohur tree. It turns red once a year for a brief time and is so beautiful. I enjoyed your poem. Reminds me that the universe goes on and this embodiment is just a blip.

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thanks Michael. It’s flowering season for them now and the trees are a riot. As always, I watch the march of seasons in week sized portions through the changing foliage. I enjoyed it as a runner but somehow feel more attuned now as a passive watcher from my little balcony.

      Liked by 1 person

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