The Mother Divine
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By Priyamvada Devi

Longing and eagerness re-born in spring are nurtured by Summer,
When the young fruit clusters on the branches,
And the dainty buds droop and fall.

Flowers scatter their fragrance and shake their petals to the ground,
But slowly the fruit swells up,
Filled with dewy nectar, colour and sweetness.

Ah me! This longing, this eagerness borne in by Autumn,
Where shall it find its fulfillment, where its end?
The distant void sky holds not a speck of cloud,
And the flowers and leaves of other days, where are they?

The trees stand apart, all bare,
Dry leaves fall in showers and cover the face of the earth,
And the thirsty dust flies moaning about, whirling in the wind.