Ode to the Early Winter

 

Autumn thus goes for the early winter,

Coolness now starts to tinker,

Topsy-turvy like an anchor,

It takes hold through its lazy days,

When the sun with its cooling grey rays,

Sprays amusing tender maze.

 

A new canvas on easel for painting:

Farmers go working as if hunting,

Paddy’s brown sweep vanish to nothing,

And the barren fields get new beds,

Such a soft soil for the numerous heads

Of wheatlings, to prop up for survival breads!

 

Look autumn’s leaves brown!

Finally, foliage gets them thrown

From the deciduous with a shivery frown,

While the winter sings a lullaby,

As if to sleep a baby:

‘Too much thou played with summer’s gaiety’.

 

Winter flowers blossom bold,

Lo the dahlia, petunia and marigold!

Wonder, soft petals fear not cold!

And feathered friends from distant arrive,

As if only here lives thrive,

Ducks fly V-shaped to nature’s drive.

 

Rosy pastor, tailor bird and wagtails,

Painted stork, painted duck and common quails,

Because those wintery hails

In mountains force their sojourn here,

And same winter will take care

Of the visitors; whom season’s scold not dare.

 

Mynah, drongo and ecstatic barbler,

Depict they cool-spirited farmer,

The air now bothers not the above ‘warmer’,

Its sulphureous ebriety doth sweep

The hairy velvety grass and keep

The intoxication perpetuated to the deep.

 

The egrets fly drollingly,

In the air blowing genteelly,

The air! As if its spring coming courteously

With its flowery shiver,

Yes! It is airy-fairy’s spring here,

While, ebriated birdies fly as its flowers.

 

Such are the days of early winter;–

Fog, mist, dew, cold quietly enter,

Robustness, meanwhile, makes a small banter,

Vow, the invigorating Goddess smiles!

Blessing of wellbeing for miles,

While, the autumn goes for annual exiles.