Words for trees

I do not have any words for trees, in my throat
I know them in throat, by astringency of fruit,
By disgust on tongue of caterpillars on them
In ironic glow as creatures of beauty of future
Their projected butterfly stature in the next sky,
By leaves falling one by one in October wind
Like snow in December of higher Himalayas.

I call them trees, even if they stand there alone
It is in their plurality they turn colored butterflies
When they are up and about, alone, in bunches,
Their lady-like cackle heard from jungle peacocks
As they raise blue heads from bushes under them.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s