The Hideout

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