by Bibhu Padhi (June 2015)
Look at the trees
and smile;
leave each tree
alone, all to itself.
Don’t look
at the tree straight,
or for too long,
but only sideways;
else, your eyes
may be too much of
a witness to make
a twig, a leaf
wither, go limp
in the indifferent air.
Each tree has its
own season;
you have yours too.
It might be dreaming
of the leaf that its
bare branches
do not hold now.
It is patient,
knows what waiting
means, to see
your other forms too.
Trees, hills, clouds,
rains, the sea.
Why are you sad
when it is bare,
without leaves?
They will come
when it needs them.
___________________________
Bibhu Padhi’s eighth and ninth books of poetry, Magic Ritual and Brief Seasons: 60 Love Songs, appeared almost back to back earlier this year. His ninth book of poems, Midnightt Diary, is due out late late this month. He lives with his family in Bhubaneswar, India.
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