Hidden Spring Poem by Saroj Padhi

A Spring feeble stutters at the threshold
in the voice of a koel too thirsty to sing,
when wind's song fails to excite the flowers
before to bees, treasure of honey they bring;

everything looks so dull, drab and grey
when like dry twigs, our thoughts waver and sway
and desire to unite under the bowers in rose garden
is subsumed by a suicidal fire in eyes of hay;

the river too doesn't move ahead as it stops to muse
over issues of water across boundaries and border,
when lips dry up as leaves of uprooted trees on banks
and in vacant ecstasy, butterflies of love shudder;

at this hour, some damp ground of love let us explore
in hidden spaces of mind where plants new always prosper.