The Season Of Happiness - Poem by anujan raja
THE SEASON OF HAPPINESS
Summer is the season of happiness
For my mango tree and for me
My mango tree bows down,
Heavy with mangoes,
Green, not yet ripe and in the full prime,
Now young and ripening silently
In the caress of the hot sun
And the dewy moon light,
Now tinged with faint shadows of yellow,
Awaiting the magic of nature.
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The man from the market comes round,
He looks up the tree and at me
An ingratiating smile on his lips-
No, - I tell him once again,
They are not for sale.
No reasons I give him.
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A week or two passes,
Now the fruits are ripe
Filled with all the sweetness of nature,
Offerings to all nature's creatures.
Yellow with delightful shades of red,
Filled with the honeyed juice of nature.
A few still small and green
Wait for nature's wondrous transformation.
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She now stands with hands outstretched
To welcome all Nature's creatures,
Big, small and tiny
Those who walk, run and jump,
Those who climb and those who crawl,
Those who clamber and those who fly.
They come from far away
Winging through the night air.
They come from the trees nearby,
Sensing the sweetness of the fruits.
They come from all the nooks and corners
Crawling and scampering through the ground.
They come from the mysterious crevices,
Silent and invisible,
Unlimited in number
Eager to share the nature's bounty.
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The man from the market comes again
This time I smile at him,
He reads the meaning
And walks away, disappointed.
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At night I listen
To the flap-flap of the leathery wings
Big, ponderous and sluggish in flight,
They come from afar in darkness,
I cannot see them
I sense their presence
There are only a couple of them.
Where are the others of your tribe?
I ask silently.
In the murky light of dawn
One -two -three-six and seven.
I count them, half-eaten ripe mangoes
Not discarded, but dropped
In the midst of their heavenly repast
Up there in the tree.
Down on the earth others await,
Countless in number
Eager to share the remnants
The squirrells, only a couple of them,
The small green parrots,
They come in flocks
Boisterous and nervous
Fluttering in the sunshine
Noisy guests, self-invited,
To this nature's banquet.
The tree stands thrilled,
Listens to this primeval hullabaloo.
The season's last mangoes eaten up
The last few birds fly away,
The tree stands alone and silent,
Her largesse well received
By all nature's darlings,
She is happy in their happiness
Now everything is very quiet
Save the soft whisper of the morning breeze
Another fruitful year passes
Another year of happiness.
In the early morning next day
I looked at the tree in reverential wonder
She stood there, serene and happy,
Her mission well-accomplished.
The mellow sun was weaving
A rainbow halo around her head.
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