poetry

Stephanotis

The wind brushes through the leaves, then ceases at its own silent and slow pace.

Birds chitter their way up into the sky and fade away as they hit miles and miles out.

Afar, the sounding of the tiny crawling bugs on the ground depart my ears, as they attend to their many youngings .

In their dwellings, the wild chicken feed their chicks as silently I suppose, for the fear of a preditor at close.

I hear the branches of trees crumple to the bare ground full of leaves that rattle at the fall. The leaves up on the last branches standing sway from side to side.

Merrily, the blossoms that sprout early enough, let out lovely, most scented vibes like the early dued stephanotic. Green, yellow, orange, purple to red roses, lighten up their inner colours to us are not evident

Everything, every other creation comes to a stand still for five seconds not more than that, to listen to the aura.

Other creatures scramble for that five seconds window so as to make their wishes ,come, atleast not blindly, but vivid in their eyes

Nothing bursts that commotion as water falling from the sky, we call it rain.

“Be good next time, I shall not come unannounced.” Rains try to warn the eager creatures. It pours down heavily for twenty minutes.

The five seconds is lost, all wishes are lost. and back to square one as tradition.

Neither do I get the luck to make my wishes.

3 thoughts on “Stephanotis

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