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.

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