Leaves like half burnt toast,
Hang from the shrivelled branches
Of Frangipani.
Come monsoon showers;
It comes to life and flowers,
Savours in delight…
Seduced by sweet scent
Moths drawn by the fragrance, flock
At night for nectar.
Do they have a clue?
It’s fruitless search for nectar;
Trick up nature's sleeve,
To help pollinate
As moths flit over flowers;
Play designated role…
How sweet the night air How strong the scent Enticements are the rule When it comes to have Some work done! A truly beautiful poem, makes me wonder if you were also a botanist or a pantheist.
roles designated, have to search even if no nectar, I forgot that the search itself is, to be what it can be, a nectar in ultimate reality
god has interwoven life...you have beautifully brought it out...an excellent poem..10
Frangipani flowers, it is said are loved by Lord Shiva. In South Indian Temples /homes Frangipaini flowers are extensively used in the pooja of Shivji. This is a marvelous poem, fragrant indeed. I could smell the Franagipani
An illusion or decoy.....clever nature or stupid moths? ? ? ? ? Is this the way to keep life going....nice one to ponder!
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
.....It is a fruitless search for nectar.....; what are you hinting at mamta? ? ? I think i am too close to that. A thought provoking poem, indeed!