Aila-The morning after (at the Lakes)

This morning, I began to count,
One, Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven..
As many as seven trees lay uprooted
In a small stretch of 100 meters.
The black road had assumed a shade of green
Covered by torn leaves from the trees.
While a few had been uprooted in one single piece,
Some had their thick stem twisted and broken.
Like a destructive child twists the limbs off a toy!

Such was the fury of the gale
That it claimed human lives too-
A son killed in her mother’s presence.
A bread-earner snatched away
in a sudden twist of fate.
A poor rickshaw puller relieved of the burden
of lugging people around.

Yet, in the midst of it all,
I saw the crows hard at work this morning.
Picking up the broken twigs scattered around,
They renew their effort to re-build their nest
among the stronger, stouter trees left behind!

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