Past the emerald lawn, pearled with dew drops Beyond the weather-beaten picket fence Lies a narrow well-trodden trekking trail Lazily snaking into the forest A path I amble on every morning The beckoning tree-line is the gateway To the primeval dense temperate woods The hush here has its own cacophony Red, blue and yellow flashes from the tops The resplendent trees are playing holi* Colors they hide in their thick foliage Take feathery wings and make chirping sounds Greens sieve the sunlight, turn it to gold dust Glitters glides, slips through your open fingers I sit, soak the peaceful tranquillity Wish to grow roots too, live here forever.

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Holi-Festival of colors.