As the seasons change

into your branches
and onto the grass below.
You and your learned peers
standing tall in the sunshine,
unbending, unsmiling, except for
the occasional nod bestowed upon
an admirer.
You were ever-present,
and I came back to you.
You were older now, I think.
Something of the aged
Touched your fine crevices.
Of course you were beautiful,
Still.

No longer green, you did not shine.
You radiated the serenity that
only autumn brings.
You were a multitude of hues
all vying for attention, not clamouring
but waiting patiently
for me to spot the brilliance between
the bronze and ochre.
Then you trembled, a little.

I watched a leaf,
a tiny part of you shivers
as the breeze blew hard,
and harder.
You, who stood tall
against any breeze in the world
now shivered at a hint
of unrest, and your leaves
fell gently on the earth.
You were then almost bare,
devoid of any adornment.
Every golden leaf plunging down
onto a carpet of more leaves,
all bronze, and yellow, and brown.
I could not stay for long.
You could not, either.
I saw you last on a street,
a stark outline against the sky -
a tree, that was going to die.
pics and poem:Sadarchita Prasad