Altaf Khaliq Wani
Pregnant tree near my lodge
Whom I care, chill to till
Shyly foliage sprout as guard
Nod to posy, come for fruit
Baby fruits welcome by sleet
Tried to vise like grip with bough
But the blowzy weather with gale
Shake and bob, unlucky fruit
Before ripe, tumble on dune
Immature pips, conceal for doom
With heart burn, retrace with sob
Inculcate, parable and transcend
Perhaps sleepy vale is forlorn
Invite wrath of Almighty God
But the callousness still found
Among myriad with full conceit.
(Author dwells in Gudoora Pulwama)
