The Evening Breeze

In this lock down, without any noise or traffic, I started to clearly observe the little things like the singing of the cuckoo, the sound of leaves falling down and much more. One of them is the swish of the Evening Breeze. I wrote this poem a couple of months ago, but decided to publish it now...

The Evening Breeze

It arrives with a lot of splendor,

Just after the sun sets,

Gushing as fast as the stream below,

Gathering all the floating autumn leaves,

Golden, Orange and Scarlet

It runs across my face,

Cooling it tremendously,

Humming a sweet song,

Just like the cuckoo,

It moves swiftly across the old barn,

And the fiery woods,

With it brings the petrichor of the fresh earth,

And a paraphernalia of pollen,

No matter how much I’ve tried,

I have never found it,

It creeps around in its invisibility potion,

Bringing only freshness wherever it goes…

 Picture courtesy: Unsplash