In ceaseless
motion round the purple rim
Day by day sped
by like coloured spokes,
And through a
glamour of shifting hues of air
The symbol
pageant of the changing year
-
Savitri
***
Presenting here a poem for the waning
year. With this, we conclude the series of poems and articles on Seasons.
The year begun with our yearning hearts,
in it was planted a tiny little bud.
Aspirations and adventures a lot,
the bud unfurled with time, petal by petal,
Into a beautiful fragrant flower.
With the flaming heart-flower,
a celebration and a joy invites us
into the cool month of December.
An offering we do,
of the blossomed flower to its source.
When the year merges into the next,
the time becomes sacred,
like that of an early morning dawn.
It is also called as Margazhi,
a time of reverence and remembrance.
We remember in our ways,
a sweet little girl. Goda, she is revered as.
Her wonderful black tresses
remind us of a boy as black,
as black as the dense clouds.
She sews a flower garland
with herself entwined in her flowers.
Beckons the cuckoo and the cloud
with adoring songs to reach her beloved.
Kolams
decorate
house fronts,
very colored and intricate.
Carnatic music takes stage,
showering its pride of culture.
With the richness from the years’ experiences,
we welcome the touch of New Year’s rays,
our hearts opening for a newer bud.
Looking forward to inspiring adventures,
we journey with time and blossom.
-
Sandhya
No comments:
Post a Comment