Nocturnal Nature
Pensively promenaded I, as impetuous as a poet,
To accumulate few jocund inkling on dusk.
For sure, not as a bard,
But as a novice to nature.
Stalked I, barefooted anigh lake;
Jabbed some spines beneath my foot.
Yon reconnoitred I, do any luminous light clandestined in water?
Else, any celestial gem floats in lake?
Nay! It’s the waxing moon in the sky,
That seemed to tread on water.
Paddled I into the lake
To grab some pallied lilies.
Hardly perceived I any bloomed one!
Had the lilies been sailed under false colour by moon?
I knew not their intrigue,
Nor had I prescient criteria.
Chillness of water benumbed me;
Retrieved I, as cool as a cucumber, to the bank.
Is this terra God’s palette?
Obviously! Nature is the art of God.
Dark grey was lake’s scenario;
Stood reeds augustly amidst the lake.
Casuarina broke into tumult
When the west wind passed adrifting it.
Glow-worms scattered round the bushes;
Heard I croaking of frogs.
I felt languished by chillness
That pierced my chest and nostrils.
Homeward bound, strolled I,
For I had been there behind my father’s back.
As being benumbed by drastic cold,
I was at the end of my tether.
Soon felt I in the arms of Morpheus,
On the grass, supine anigh lake.
By morning, I began to fly off at a tangent,
When a highland lass harped on my shoulder.
I began to know the ropes of that wintry night,
For it cajoled me to sleep resembling lullaby.
No human hardly be preponderate
Than a mother and nature.
