By Arya Dixit
My morning jog had me breathless;
There was a stitch in my side,
My shirt soaked through.
My eyes and lungs rejoiced
as I happened upon a lake.
It was turquoise, green with a hint of grey
(Reflecting the sky; it was a gloomy day)
And yet, the lake was anything but that.
How long had the calm, still waters stood here?
Years? Decades? Centuries?
I wish I knew, for then, I could
Marvel even more about how vibrant
And young it seemed
As fishes weaved in and out,
Jumping over each other in harmony.
As I stood there, transfixed by tranquillity,
A clump of wings rose as one
By the far end of the lake.
Black and grey and white,
All huddled together in no apparent formation,
But with dignified grace and delicacy,
Their wings flapping, bodies soaring,
Circling the lake
As if it were flying a lap of honour
In humility to the lake’s very existence.
The trees by the edges hung low,
Its lush green leaves almost
Touching the jewel encrusted
Surface- a soft kiss,
An embrace, its branches and
Leaves and vines stretching and
Growing by its surface.
The lake just stood there,
It’s waters hardly moving.
Only moving, floating lightly
When a breeze blows by,
Caressing its surface.
I do not know how long
I stood there,
Falling in love with the
Soft mud by the banks,
The clear water, so pure
The birds chirping and singing
In an attempt to entice the lake,
The trees swaying with its melody
And the sun sinking lower and lower into the water
As though it too could not resist
The charm and seduction of something so simple
And elegant, so serene and divine.
A mere body of water.
But it was much more than just that;
So much more.
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