18 March 2013
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
Left behind.
And, the white-blanketed valley
Is sprinkled with green spots
And dots.
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
Once again,
Happy Nowruz.
