The High Lands Need Winter Clothes! Poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi

Full of mysteries mist with no dust,
Covers everything from sight,
The ball of fire is out of delight,
When I walk down the trail of mud,
Quietness rules this wonderful slope,
Where none sweep, but the wind,
The freshly detached leaves join the old,
The birds make the music to the fall,
The roots are hidden leaving the gaps,
Where thousands of creatures alive,
To call it their homes, the bees hives,
Stick on the branches as the black holes,
Ferns are here in many shapes and height,
Palms have their rooms too, the tallest,
Trees of the earth are found in the virgin forests,
The smell of the air is very fresh, the ants,
Snails, leeches and the crawlers with feet,
Live here for many thousand years,
The drops of water fall to be the stream,
Run down as waterfalls and then as rivers,
The silvery lines of water on the face,
Of mountains, the eco system looks very fragile,
When man brings up their machines and dreams,
Leave all these trees and their home to be the heaven,
To enjoy these high lands wearing the sweaters,
The winter clothes, gloves and mufflers.