The Gift

 The Gift

Big or small, short or tall, gifted are all

Who often complain even in Spring or Fall

That only they are not fortunate

To be like the ones that are in such a state.

A tiny bird in the wild world far away

Tweets by itself gleefully all day.

It is gifted to fill the still and fragrant air

With its sweet notes of joy everywhere.

Grateful shall we be for the gift,

Seldom should we allow our mind to drift

From being blissful to being remorseful.

Thus we shall ever be cheerful.

Big or small, short or tall, gifted are all

To make a mark before we fall.

*****

17 Sep. 23

Rain again

 

Aggrieved without the season's bountiful rain

I start to write these lines with stressful pain.

The days are dry and I do not know why

There are no clouds to spot across the sky.

The springs and streams that come alive this time,

Have gone away beyond being sublime.

No water there for crops; no water there

 To drink; the days are hot for me to bear.

They say, life now on earth is hard to live

Unless we understand how we can relive

The past that's lost; its simple, yet content

Ways ought to guide us through this sad moment.

Our race these days is fast, unwise and lost.

Only rain again can save us here at last.

                                           *****