A Day In The Mystic Hills
I am awoken at the crack of dawn,
By the sweet chirps of the blue jays
A gust of wind rustles through the deodars,
As has been true for a number of days
I glance out of the window,
Greeted by a crowd of yellow daffodils,
Swaying and fluttering in the breeze,
Beside the lake, beneath the trees
The monsoon turbulently proclaims its presence,
As a fierce squall of wind gushes through the sky
The mellifluous chirps of the songbirds dissolve into a vacuum of silence,
Overwhelmed by amplified peals of thunder
Time briskly ticks away,
As the clouds relinquish their fury with a sense of clemency
The dappled sunshine seeps in through the dense foliage,
As a coruscating kaleidoscope of colours suffuse the sky
I saunter off into the picturesque meadows at twilight,
As the stridulation of an orchestra of crickets echoes all around
A blanket of stars shimmer and glow in the night sky,
Who knows, may this all just be a lie?
