What Winds And Seasons Dared Not Poem by Ravi Panamanna

THIS COULD BE FATE OF NATURE WITH MAN AND HIS AXE
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Once upon a time
This was a flower strewn hill.
Upon the lap of eternal winds
She was the visitation of springs.

And she was a pleasing sight,
Her grass was a golden treasure.
Herd of sheep, resting birds,
Shady grove- rich were her open meads.

By a stream she led a virginic life,
To the passing clouds she lent her dreams.
To moonlit nights she opened her wings
And for eons to peace she was wedded.

Seasons danced upon her chest,
Winds were gentle throughout.
But man and his axe- it left a deep cut,
Before his might, she met a miserable plight.

Half of her flesh is gone,
Half of her limbs are gone.
And there, she is breathing her last,
She hath only dust for all searching eyes.