Only voices speak now, wind surge bring their words
Birds chatter up the trees, nothing but quiet silence
Dews hidden on tree leaves fall, tapping into a mock pool
While the bass-throated toad grunt softly at the dancing tree leaves
Sometimes the tree leaves fall in circles, gathering solemnly
The wind pushing them about, at least the ones who defied decay
Catfish roam the breadth of the free flowing waters of the marsh
Snails cling to the green bushes, water dripping from their hard shell
There is absolute quietness, mild and tender tryst of Nature
Beneath the dancing trees, few squirrels and insects congregate
Picking the sweet fruits which had strayed down to the river banks
Down, down the view, the waters fall with soft, strange sighs
White waters bouncing off shiny peebles and ageless rocks
The wind helping the surge, the sun finding no place here
When a seed falls- plum, into the river, the fish scatter in fright
Gathering again to swim the slow current, schools picking about
In this citadel, all knew no morning or night but excitement:
One drawn from Natures providence, a quiet escape for healing