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Image by Maksim Shutov

the old forest trail
By Latika Singha


 

the old forest trail

lichens cling
to tree trunks, large

and leaves, fall,
staggering, on the grass,

in hues of gold,
and rust, and
russet brown

the forest path,
by starlight lit,
winds its way
into the forest
deep,

as crickets begin
their rusty song,
and wolves prowl,
stealthily along,

and otters,
gathering along
the stream,

as silver fish,
defying the night,
shimmer and dazzle
along
the waters bright

on goes the old path,
through thorny shrubs
and grassy ground,

now, up a hill, then
winding down,
as yellow orioles,
tree tops throng,

under a starry gaze,
the path unwinds,
and ends its journey
on a verdant note,

as meadows begin
their joyful song,
of daisies white,
and cuckoo sound

then, lays the path, its
hoary head,
on grasses wild,
and takes a rest

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