IN THE MEADOW

In the Meadow

In the meadow, old and withered,

The grandfather of all trees.

Gone are the glory days,

Of rustling in the breeze

Gone are the days of standing,

So proud, wise, and tall.

Gone are the days of being,

The best one of them all.

Yet, come the silent night,

We find not all is lost.

His spirit still stands there,

Yet, at a heavy cost.

Every day he sees,

The suffering of his kind.

Desperate thoughts flitting,

In and out his mind.

In the meadow, old and withered,

The grandfather of all trees.

Every night he stands there waiting,

Waiting for his release.

-Shivangi Narain

11/20/08

FEAR

Leaves scattered on forest floor

rustling, rustling

Nervousness creeping up, stalking its prey

rustling, rustling

Flash of movement in brown undergrowth

rustling, rustling

Closer, closer beads of sweat start to form

I hear rustling, rustling.....

Looking around, breath deepens, pace quickens

panicking , panicking

Rattle shaking, infernal hissing

panicking, panicking

Hood raised , tongue flicking

panicking, panicking

Cobra stikes, Rattler bites

Its the end-

fading, fading........

-Shivi