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.