If You Cut a Tree; You Cut Your Own Mother – Poems on Environment , Wildlife , Mother Nature , Global Warming by Nikhil Parekh - HTML preview

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61. CHANGING FACES OF WEATHER  

 

Flashes of red swept across my eyes,

blended with infinite dust particles of atmosphere,

as fireballs of sun blazed through the sky,

penetrating sapphire blue cloud covers,

falling in strong beams of light,

lightening dull patches of suspended moisture,

filtering stringently through transparent tree leaf,

submerging the entire galaxy with enchanting golden,

fumigating stale drain water with shades of boiling heat,

scorching naked stone pebbles strewn on beds of the

mountain river.

 

The car seat rocked violently,

tender bones of my body reverberated with mounting speeds,

curtain spreads of green rushed past my vision,

meandering curves of the valley descended towards the horizon, hordes of wild monkey occasionally danced on car roof, a camouflage of ripened banana hung from tall tree,

orphan splinters of ice cascaded down the valley,

a battalion of Christmas pine projected from terrain

trajectory, the tropical weather displayed erratic fluctuation,

vast layers of crystal sky developed blotches of dirty grey,

bright spots of sunshine were overpowered by

thunderous cloud ravishing smiles crept from angular corners of my mouth, i then stretched my feet in the cozy interiors of my

crimson Mercedes, as gigantic droplets of rain pelted in fury,

from the sky which now resembled, white canvas painted with pure deathly black.