By Nishindra KInjalk
At every doorway, quiet and small,
Muddy clogs rest against the wall.
Traces of earth, thick and brown,
Leave prints of life through the town.
With each soft step, winter fades,
As buds unfurl in sunlit glades.
The mud speaks tales of fields reborn,
Of blossoms waiting for the morn.
Spring begins, a gentle sign
From earth to heart divine.
Lovely little ode, oozing idyllic charm of pastoral living. Nice piece, Nishindra.
Navneet
One can imagine the rural and rustic the beauty and hope of nature in its cycle of life
Beautiful imagery ! You can smell the earth and see the flowers ! And appreciate the metaphor of passage of time.