Autumn Morn

Dawn finds dewy grass.

Bedecked with fallen flowers.

Wrapped palms over warm tea.

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Hues of morning glory

Bright morning glories,

Adorned fences in my town.

Hues-my mother taught.

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Token

It's been two days
Since the Nor'wester.
Its ferocity left back
As token everywhere-
Broken branches,
Twisted wires.
A bird's feather,
A red dried leaf,
Some broken beads;
Uprooted
from its original place of resting.
Now lie amidst the shrubs
Perhaps a little uncomfortable,
Out of place
In it's new surroundings,
In my garden.

A Stray incident also happened.
The fury of the wind
Had uprooted a roadside tree,
Causing it to fall
On a passing taxi.
The poor driver
Had not even succeeded,
In offering a token resistance.

In his honour,
The city's mayor
Offers some token money
To his wife
To express his condolence.

His grieving wife
Plans to hang a photograph,
Dating back to their day of wedding,
On the bedroom wall.
A token of remembrance
Of the good times spent.

It's been two days now.
All is calm
Till it's time,
For the next storm;
A token of protest by nature
For, it believes,
it is being wronged.

Copyright @ Goutam Dutta

#Writephoto Crescent Moon

Forlorn crescent moon;
Inadequate, timorous,
Halted in progress.
Dawn’s hues of gold unveiled.
Darkness behind silhouettes.

Copyright @ Goutam Dutta

Thursday photo prompt: Crescent #writephoto

Reclaimed

The furious storm
razed all that lay in its path.
Branches from a large tree had broken,
Their weight damaging on impact
The roof of a house.
The house-owner cursed,
Seeing the damage to his house.
He ordered the whole tree
to be chopped off.
In a couple of days
Only the stump remained.
Good riddance, the owner thought!
Yet, unknown to him,
A few feet away from the tree-stump,
Possibly a fallen seed,
Nourished by the rains
Had sprouted from the ground.

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