I Think Poem by Bijay Kant Dubey

I think
Whose forests are these,
Who is it who has made them,
Whose the pathways crossing them,
Whose the farmlands
And whose it the farmhouse?

The trees are silent with the leaves
Fluttering and falling,
The wind playful enough
And the scenery stupendous
With the sight of flutter and fall
Marked by the arrival of spring
And birds chirping and full of joy
All for a fresh lease of life
In terms of sight, scene and colour.