Monday, March 29
In life's orb
When the wind hums
its mellifluous tune
leaves listen intently,
flowers dance, and proliferate.
High on divine nectar,
butterflies flail
spent and disoriented,
yet gleeful in a moment’s choice
Waking the trees, birds chirrup,
tranquilly enough, brooks ripple,
rainbows spill their tinted allure,
soaking the earth’s parched skin.
A sense of freedom
unshackles her clogged soul.
Tousled by nature’s destiny,
all life settles in her spindly shell.
its mellifluous tune
leaves listen intently,
flowers dance, and proliferate.
High on divine nectar,
butterflies flail
spent and disoriented,
yet gleeful in a moment’s choice
Waking the trees, birds chirrup,
tranquilly enough, brooks ripple,
rainbows spill their tinted allure,
soaking the earth’s parched skin.
A sense of freedom
unshackles her clogged soul.
Tousled by nature’s destiny,
all life settles in her spindly shell.
Wednesday, March 24
Of springing ahead
When spring sets in, my mind invariably dwells on the burst of life it brings to the world. I love to watch the sunlit ripples stirring the stillness of the lake, trees burgeoning with their brand new leaves, dewdrops lacing tender blades of grass, and flowers beaming diffidently at the bees…I love to hear the birds redeeming their lost voices, to dance with the sunshine on the streets, and to gaze at butterflies painting the air in a color cascade…
Then again, summer is enchanting too; the monsoon, refreshing; and winter, fortifying. There seems to be a strange, inexplicable joy even in the repression of the sun, the saturation of the rains, and the ire of the winds. With each changing season, nature ostensibly forwards one loveliness into another…there's no prairie lovelier than a red autumn leaf, and no cricket chirr cheerier than a running brook. Nature never closes in on anything, it only heralds new beginnings, and new hopes. Makes me wonder...if, abidingly, we kept the green bough in our hearts evergreen…perhaps the singing bird would come?
Then again, summer is enchanting too; the monsoon, refreshing; and winter, fortifying. There seems to be a strange, inexplicable joy even in the repression of the sun, the saturation of the rains, and the ire of the winds. With each changing season, nature ostensibly forwards one loveliness into another…there's no prairie lovelier than a red autumn leaf, and no cricket chirr cheerier than a running brook. Nature never closes in on anything, it only heralds new beginnings, and new hopes. Makes me wonder...if, abidingly, we kept the green bough in our hearts evergreen…perhaps the singing bird would come?
Thursday, March 18
Green is in the air...
...and spring’s not in just yet!
Today is not just any day, especially if you’re in New York, or Chicago, and of course, Ireland. It’s the reviving of an ancient culture. The mention of St Patrick’s Day makes one conjure up images of a bunch of Irish revelers painting the town red with their procession. But there’s much, much more than just that. Legend has it that St. Patrick, the Patron Saint of Ireland, became a celebrated missionary of the Christian faith in Ireland at a very young age, in attempting to turn around the people of Ireland from paganism practiced before 6th Century A.D. In the 1760s, Irishmen serving the English paraded through the streets of New York, proclaiming the beginning of the celebrations in honor of the Saint, during the month of Lent. And there has been no looking back since; New York draws more than one million spectators each year. And Chicago is not too far behind. The parade goes on here too, in all its grandeur, and then the Chicago River has attracted more and more people for the past 43 years, by indefatigably turning a resplendent green just for the St. Patrick's Day celebrations. The hype is more apposite than it seems, as they say the green hue of the river is strikingly similar to the greens of Ireland; and the dye they use is actually orange! Well, if you think this is a real avant-garde marvel, who is to explain the perfectly coordinated tap dancing?
Today is not just any day, especially if you’re in New York, or Chicago, and of course, Ireland. It’s the reviving of an ancient culture. The mention of St Patrick’s Day makes one conjure up images of a bunch of Irish revelers painting the town red with their procession. But there’s much, much more than just that. Legend has it that St. Patrick, the Patron Saint of Ireland, became a celebrated missionary of the Christian faith in Ireland at a very young age, in attempting to turn around the people of Ireland from paganism practiced before 6th Century A.D. In the 1760s, Irishmen serving the English paraded through the streets of New York, proclaiming the beginning of the celebrations in honor of the Saint, during the month of Lent. And there has been no looking back since; New York draws more than one million spectators each year. And Chicago is not too far behind. The parade goes on here too, in all its grandeur, and then the Chicago River has attracted more and more people for the past 43 years, by indefatigably turning a resplendent green just for the St. Patrick's Day celebrations. The hype is more apposite than it seems, as they say the green hue of the river is strikingly similar to the greens of Ireland; and the dye they use is actually orange! Well, if you think this is a real avant-garde marvel, who is to explain the perfectly coordinated tap dancing?
