The Colour of Silence: A Poem on Nature | Thursday Verse No. 24

  Not all stillness is absence. Sometimes, it is a quiet gathering of light, of memory, of passing lives brushing against each other without notice. What we call silence may simply be the world speaking in a softer voice.

The Colour of Silence

Photograph by Andy Wno on Pexels.

A lush of green bushes,

rustling to April's ochre breeze,

rippling through the drying Dhaisar creek,

which holds a single pink lotus, 

floating by the ankle of a white egret, 

Nipping bites of tiny minnows

that are scattering away in fear

under the shadow of a child

soaking its tiny feet,

humming a summer song,

to the tune of the koyal,

perched on a sill,

looking at the eyes that's watching the bushes and the breeze

and the child and its dreams,

From behind a quiet window pane. 

- Mercy Rebonica