Wither My Green
Gopal Lahiri

For days countless they are withering                                                  
The green leaves of the tallest trees
In my flower garden.

Those crisscross leaves used to sprout green
And the smell in summer rain
Fill my cups to brim.

In the warmth of shelter, the nest full of chicks
And the widespread shadow down under
Sooth the thirsty throats.

Still etch in my memory the two tiny birds
Sitting on the branches in solitude
Making their first love.

Who else can forget the evening breeze?
And the rich and endearing shelter
In the stormy night.

Now the bare branches dig deep in my heart
Of its beauty and essence drained in silence
Inflate gaping wounds.