Birdsong

Picture credits: mine

I love the birdsong echoing
through my front lawn, crocheted by all shades of green.
Humming through my rustic courtyard,
tuning into the sunlit verandahs,
passing through the crevices of walls.
Walls bricked with all the faith and vigour,
and buttered by love and care,
by the men and women,
of this safe haven.

The oranges in my lawn,
sparkle of glitter and sunshine.
The scents of neem exuberate peace.
Tulsi stands still… our concrete healer.
Bougainvilleas… shades of white, and pink add the bloomy hues.
The palms bring me the utmost peace,
of their simplicity.
Bees and butterflies run hither and thither,
with their coral wings and honey fragrances.

All of this sits in the glory beneath the blue, pink, and purple skies,
minting my head with the greens and browns and yellows,
as natural and vivacious as it could be.

I chew mint and basil in turns,
as I swallow up all the grief and misery (digging all of it in the shapeless soil).

I doze. I read. I sip. I sleep.
In countless turns and repeats.

-Shreya Sharma