Ode to Narsapur forest

Its a misty winter morning
and the world's awash with dew;
come, lets leave yesterday, its troubles hanging
lets start life anew.

Come, where time walks slow
in simple cycles of day and night
in which smoothly come and go
dawn, noon and gay twilight.

Where, nature her wand does weave
raising verdant seas of green
and charms out a treasure of sights that leave
memories colour drunk, senses rapier keen.

Where every tree, shrub and grass
rock, gully and jungle trail
hum with life and in living amass
richness of simplicity beyond human toil's avail.

Where bright flashes of colour herald
birds of which we know no name
and animal spoor; of pug, paw and hoof
this, a wild domain proclaim.

So, come and drink your fill
of this bounteous spread
and let its sounds and smells till
your self, to cultivate hope and bury dread.

And as back we make our way
to a life of monotonies, drab and gray
let's pray for yet another day
when you and I come Narsapur way.

Mountain spring

As sheets of tinted gold
or molten silver, you glow
springing free, from a rocky hold
with blithe abandon you flow.

Bubbling, gay, you make your way
under this eroded arch, over yon hard rock ledge
while your merry gurgle seems to say
to lifelong goodness, a pledge.

Pray, what makes you so
merry, buoyant and free
is it some unknown you know
or some holy light you see?

Perhaps it is the relief,
of a new life you see (under sunny skies)
for you must have known the grief
of a rocky prison, which no sunbeams prise.

Or its that you just rejoice
as the bearer of nature's elixir
and through your mellifluous voice
herald providence, light and cheer.

I really do not know
the secrets in your blithe voice's peal
yet, on your rocky banks, as you gently flow
my puny despairs die, my imagined wounds heal.