I Can Hear The Phalgun Winds Ruffling And Rattling It All, Singing Folk Tunes In The Country Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

The winds seem to be swirling leaves at nook and corner
Of the country's secluded landscapes,
Heat and dust doing the rounds,
The small children playing with mud,
Dipping into water bodies,
Hurling ashes from Holika dahan,
Doing the Phag malhar at night near the muddy village temple,
Beating drums, striking cymbals,
Taking to joy, festivity and frolicsome Nature
And the changing moods of man with time changing,
Seasons changing, one giving way to another,
Hurling coloured powder and shouting,
Bura mat mano, Holi hai.