Beyond the Wall

A fragrant green bog, wisps of a chilled fog, merry gurgling stream, frogs soak and dream, the silent shallow stills, frilling those lofty hills, carpets of furry moss, hollow logs lie across, the musty loamy soil, where tiny insects toil, a rustling forest floor, a grunt a howl a roar, light whistling breeze, the busy … Continue reading Beyond the Wall

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The Farmer Sparrows!

This one takes off from my narrative of June 4th, “Tempest in a Teapot?” (https://asliveroflife.wordpress.com/2019/06/04/tempest-in-a-teapot/), in which I recounted how a team of house sparrows had fortuitously aided the creation of a mini-forest of foxtail millet plants within the confines of my tulsi planter. In due course these plants flowered and fruited, yielding millet seeds … Continue reading The Farmer Sparrows!

Human(un)kind

In a verdant forest rich and thick, choicest berries and nectar to pick, Jocosus spied in olive and yellow, dazed and soaked who’s this fellow? You look like me except the hues, but suffering quite a case of blues, whence you from, whither bound, don’t mind but never seen around. I am Gularis from the … Continue reading Human(un)kind

Mocked by a Mocking Bird!

Atop a verdant hillock, beneath the rising sun, looking down on tree tops, my vigil had begun. Ticking off the bird calls, all expected by far, suddenly a screeching call, loud and bizarre. On the southern slopes, I set my sight in search, and there it was riotously, calling from its perch. Quickly from the … Continue reading Mocked by a Mocking Bird!

Nothing Rhymes with Orange!

Gazing at the tall Indian beech, I thought I saw a hint of peach, amidst the lush leaves of green, was that a touch of tangerine? Into the thickets it had gone, chasing a shade of persimmon, if it was to be a whistling parrot, why did I see a hue of carrot? Was it … Continue reading Nothing Rhymes with Orange!

The Sentinel

A profusion of clumsy rustling on a carpet of dry leaves under the scrubby vegetation somewhere to my left told me that I was in luck. And as the collective patter of feet came closer, my eyes naturally began to scan the tops of the scrawny trees which, with their few green boughs, would be … Continue reading The Sentinel