You are Terminalia Arjuna in Latin, but to
me just Kumbuk
You draw the wind, coolness and wetness with
a look that’s rustic
Right in front of my eyes, you planted
yourself before I came
Some twenty years or more, it now seems
insane
What changes we have been through? Climate,
flora and fauna
The nests of Jungle Fowl have gone from
that corner
Mouse deer that scampered, now only
history negating my task
I see you daily if not hourly, but most
certainly when I sit at my desk
I feel such a fraud that biodiversity I so
value vanishes
But the avian photography I take here,
somehow clashes
With that hypothesis.
You are my inspiration to write, to hope
and expect the unexpected
You are my companion of fifteen years as
I watch your length extended
You have during this time, shared my hopes,
fears and most importantly
My disappointments in love, more than
once, nay a dozen certainly!
It’s the grove you inhabit that drew me
to live here,
You were small then, as your brothers
and sisters were
Much larger, but in you I placed the
hope that I spoke
To see you grow and surpass their grandeur
before I croak
Never disappointing in rain and sun, I pray
you live that my children
Will feel the same about you that I do,
nay also my grandchildren
With that metamorphosis.
