Every season, half-way through
Its journey, winter’s soul under
A white blanket comes
To its own existence.
On his shoulders, it carries
Secrets as old as eternity,Up closer, traces of
Those green footsteps seen
And, the white-blanketed valley
Is sprinkled with green spots
The sounds of his slow moving strides
Mingle with the music of singing
Sparrows above,Promising the vitality of a new day’s arrival.
Sun’s reflection on his face
Glorifies him to a royal splendor,Only to pass it along and bestow
It upon mother-earth and its tenants.
He greets and doing so
Pierces through and lands
On your soul.
How lovely that he is
Around again, this Nowruz,Let’s embrace his arrival