Adaptation - Poem by Nirode Ray
It is a golden brown dawn
it is spring, snow is all melt gone
the grass is sprouting with weary patchy green
I wonder how it survived the harsh winter wind?
because it was covered under a snow pile
then how did it breathe?
no air was there underneath the white sheath
no sunlight was there, it was dark everywhere
that's why it has brown patch
and it looks tired
no water slipped in, grass is now thirsty
but too much water might kill the grass
scientist say this is hibernation
I would say aspiration to live
I wish I had that adaptation skill
and a place inside your cold heart
when your apathy destroys
my desire to live, my somber will.
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