Brittle Dry Leaves (Nature Poem)

Brittle Dry Leaves

There
Yonder just a
Few clusters of
Dried leaves
They hang on the denuded
Maple, walnut, oak, or hawthorn
I can see them through
Our bedroom glass window

Often I wondered
About them
Why still cling on to
The mother tree
In this wintry 
Season
Why?
For the utilitarian
Modern man
They serve no purpose
Normally the tree shuts
Off all fluid during the 
Chilly autumn, then a sudden
Night freeze, a snap
The leaves turn up
Rather, display
Their colorful underwear!
And still keep a loving company
To the mother
These barren trees with dry bark
Barely enough to protect from 
The wind chill –
Enow, this spectacle alone
To trigger the image of “the world’s
Wretched, helpless poverty-stricken
Naked human mass of black hole”
Who talks to these trees?
In this dark cloud covered
Overcast season
In these freezing, frigid
Temperatures, tell me?

No, the world - particularly
The nature is not so
Cruel as we seem to think
The trees get visits from
The wandering deer
The bushy tailed squirrels
The blue jays, chickadees,
The hammering woodpeckers
The crows, doves, and even an 
Intermittent osprey
Even in this dead of winter
But these dried brittle leaves
Talk to the tree
In hushed whispers
As I watch them
I can see the winds
They record every single
Rustle, the slightest movement 
Of wind
No disturbance escapes ’em
They are almost like the
Sensitive tip of an atomic
Force microscope (AFM)
I cannot listen to the 
Whistling wind currents
But I can see each
Passage of aerial currents
They, together with the underneath
Murmuring waterfall
And the happy wooden
Landscape
With a flickering snowy veil
Brings a much needed
Morning cheer to us
The leaves, one may think
Them dead – but they
Are more alive now 
One day they may
Decorate the nest of a
Pregnant red squirrel!
Nay, there is more life
Among those dry
Brittle leaves
Than I can ever think of  

Copyright 2026 by the author

New Year Musings (Poem)

New Year Musings

 

As a charming lad

Crooning songs atop the

Almond tree

Singing like the koel – is no big deal

In the youthful brimming days

Penning poems on Gul mohar

On the hopping hoopoe and straddling lapwings

And extemporaneously writing

Short haiku-like poems

Is no big thing either

 

During the unbearable wintry

Months

Trekking in minus 40 degree F

Standing erect like the emperor penguin

In the freezing snow showers

And blizzards

 

While

Being hit uninterruptedly

On the face with snowflakes

Daily walking for forty-five minutes

Then you come to know;

Or intimations

Of

What is Brahman, what ‘s ecstasy,

What’s Advaita

That is possible for only

A

Rajayogi Narendra,

Acharya Sri Rama Sarma, or Padmakar – only

They can unfathom it

Poets like me

People like myself swing

In the cradle of nature

Meditating on the essence of

The conglomerate embodiment of

The Eight entities (Copyright 2026 by the author)

(Translated from the Telugu original poem penned on the

eve of Telugu New Year)

ఉగాది స్వరాలు

 

చిన్నారి పొన్నారి చిఱుత కూకటి నాడు -

నాడు బాదం  చెట్టుపై నుంచి 

కోయిలలా  గీతములు పాడుట గొప్ప కాదు

నూనూగు మీసాల పాల పొంగు 

యౌవనములో తురాయి, రేల పూలపై

హూపుల మీద, తీతిర పిట్టల పై  

కొంగ్రొత్త

నానీలు వ్రాయటం పెద్ద గొప్ప కాదు 

కాదు,

తీవ్ర దుర్భర హేమంత, శిశిర ఋతువుల్లో  

సున్నాకి దిగువ, క్రింద నలభై డిగ్రీల 

ఫారెన్ హీట్ లో బిగిసిపోయే చలిలో 

స్థాణువులా చక్రవర్తి పెన్ గ్విన్ లా 

ముఖము మీద బరఫ్ 

ఎడతెరపి లేకుండా పడ్తుంటే 

నిర్భరముగా ప్రతిరోజు దినదినము

నలభై నిమిషాలు నడిచివెళ్తుంటే 

తెలుస్తుంది 

బ్రహ్మమేమిటో, ఆనందమేమిటో, అద్వైతమంటే 

ఏమిటో - అది కొందరికే సాధ్యం 

ఆచర్య శ్రీ రామ శర్మ, రాజయోగి  

నరేంద్ర, పద్మాకర్ లాంటి వాళ్ళకి -

నాలాంటి వాళ్ళు ప్రకృతి ఒడిలో 

ఓలలాడుతూ 

అష్టమూర్తిని ధ్యానిస్తూ …  అత్రి Copyright 2026 by the author

 

Under the Linden Tree (A Nature Poem)

Under the Linden Tree

A pair of worn-out slippers

With rather uneven straps

Some may call ’em Hawaii slippers

I call them fondly the Bata slippers

With them I went for an evening stroll

In shorts and Bush shirt

In summer

It is often difficult to walk 

In bright sunlight, here

In the northeast

Either the profuse sweating

Or, scorched blackened skin

On the calves

Bothers me. Yet I need 

My daily regimen of exercise

So, I have to go for walks 

Early morning or late evenings

Or walk beneath the tall trees

In the cool shades

In those wandering

Times

Sometimes I am lost 

In thoughts, chanting, or just

A vacant state

Then, suddenly, I felt …

Was it a gentle waft?

Or just air saturated with aroma

I stopped in my tracks

Stared at the tree tops

The overhead canopies

But

Nothing made sense

Only the clump of

Hanging green maple seeds,

Miniature walnuts around

“Where is the source of this floral fragrance?”

I walked back and forth

Beneath the drooping branches

Looked above and around

I could not locate 

The source of the sweet scent

But

A return to the same spot

After couple of days

My eyes caught 

The dangling bunches of florets

Slightly yellowish

With a few green cherry-like seeds

There, standing majestically

Like the Indian bullet-wood tree

Or “Bogada” or “Bakula”

Do you remember, darling

After the formal ceremony

We went for an outing

Near the King’s Garden 

Next to the Agriculture university campus

I collected the redolent white star-like flowers

And made a garlands 

And perhaps, one as a bracelet

Little did we know, then

It would usher into a life-long journey

Those Bogada flowers emit

Perfume for weeks

And then we got

A B&W photo

Years may roll down

The memory lane

Yet

That intense romance

The lingering sweet aroma

And the sweltering Indian summer days

Will stay with us

Linden and Bogada may belong to

Two different families

But today this

Lovely Linden 

Aroused my youth again.

Copyright 2022 by the author

Un-weeping Willow (Long Nature Poem)

Un-weeping Willow

Is it a willow

An ash or hemlock?

I do not know

How could I?

I’ve been always in the car

Going at almost fifty en route

Between Dewitt and Fayetteville

Maybe one day I will

Take its photo or go near 

Just to touch it and see up close

What tree it is

But even without knowing its name

I know it well, so I think

I know it instinctively somehow

Because 

I have seen fallen trees

Even in our backyard, we’ve tornado ripped

Maple and walnut, majestic veteran trees 

Yes, really I have witnessed

Many, in fact

I’d seen them in my native land

In Vijayawada, an almond tree in our compound

In Cocanada countless banyan and other trees

Some times, a whole field of flattened bananas 

I was in college then, in that seaport

A furious cyclonic storm

Hit us suddenly in the evening

Everything turned pitch dark

It was as though, the sea

From

The Bay of Bengal got 

Its soul stirred, it roared mightily

All lights were out

Our mess closed down

We walked to the Udipi restaurant

On the Main Road

No water in the tap, only well water

Nothing for us – the stranded hostel students

No water, no electricity, no food

We were

Only an insignificant minuscule compared to

The thousands of fishermen

They lost everything

Housing, boats, clothes

And their folks, sadly even little children too

Next day, or after couple of days

I went out for a walk

To see our Pithapuram Rajah College

The roads, town, and shops

The whole neighborhood lost its identity

Nothing was recognizable

Everywhere, the downed electric poles, naked wires

Old trees, must be older to me by several decades

Uprooted, branches sliced off

Limbs hanging barely

Tin rooftops, bamboo poles

Clay tiles, shabby sign boards

All sorts of debris thrown out

On to the well planned grid of roads

Barely we could 

Make our way to the college

There too

In the sprawling campus

A few stately green deciduous trees

Torn mercilessly, begging for attention

With fresh sap on the wounded limbs

Outstretched hanging branches

But who felt the most empathy

For all the trees and flora in Cocanada?

Who else would it be?

Our Professor Chacko, of the Botany department

I saw him standing next to his children

In the college botanical collection

With a frown on his face

Still, he was a bit happy

But for the Hope Island

The storm damage could’ve been much worse.

This fallen willow tree

Is exceptionally lucky

To be able to survive, to gently lean on to

The Mother Earth’s bosom

But for a little bruise

On its feet and maybe on its trunk

A little strained root system perhaps

But, such little aches and pains -

Which we all grownups get accustomed 

Sooner or later in life

It happens to us all 

Man, animal, or tree.

Yet this leaning, more like a reclining tree

(The image of Ranganayaka,

Of Nellore flashes through mind)

Showed no worries

No record, no visible memory of its terrible accident

Accident born of a strong gale

Or wind shear

Such winds visit us during late summer

Or fall

It withstood the onslaught like a sturdy big oak

As a fearless yogi

The PWD workers too loved it

They never disturbed it

Never entertained the thought of uprooting it

Why?

They just go around it

Going about their business of 

Lawn mowing, fall clearing

As I pass by this semi-uprooted Salix

Everyday while driving on route 5

I have only one thought

How many of us will be that lucky?

Like this gently reposed tree

How many of us can move on?

In life, late into old age

Without a care, without a scar

Of ill health, accident, bodily neglect, or social scorn

How many of us will be looked after

By those around us

Like this fallen tree?

Would our earthly brethren 

Show us the same dignity

As accorded to this fortunate willow

Who knows answer to these troubling 

Questions? 

In these hard scrappy times

For us mortals, nothing is certain

Neither loving care in old age

Nor material security, nor emotional warmth

Here or anywhere. How sad!  

Copyright 2021 by the author

Brittle Leaves (ఎండు టాకులు)

ఎండు టాకులు

అల్ల

దూరంలో కొన్ని ఎండుటాకుల గుత్తులు

నగ్నపు అక్రోటు, మేపిల్, సింధూర, సీమచింత …

కొమ్మల నుంచి వెళ్ళాడు తున్నాయి

మా పడక గది గాజు కిటికీలోంచి కనిపిస్తాయి

నాకు.

ఎన్నో సార్లు ఆలోచించాను

ఎందుకు, ఇంకా ఇప్పుడు

తల్లి చెట్టుని పట్టుకొని

వెళ్లాడటం, ఎందుకింకా?

ఉపయోగితా మభ్య భరిత

ఆధునిక మానవ దృష్టిలో -

వీటి వల్ల ఏం లాభం?

ఇక్కడ, ఈ హేమంతంలో చలికి

చెట్లు (ఆకులకి) తేమ ద్రవాలు

నిలిపేస్తాయి, అంతే ఓ రాత్రి

వణుకే చలికి ఆకులన్నీ తమ తమ

రంగు రంగుల లోదుస్తులు

చూపిస్తాయి; ఈ దుర్భర చలిలో

ప్రేమతో తల్లికి తోడుంటాయి

పగిలి ఎండిపోయిన బెరుడులతో కప్పిన

చాలీచాలని ఆఛ్చాదము - చాలు

ఈ ఒక్క దృశ్యము, ప్రపంచంలోని

నికృష్ట నిస్సహాయ దారిద్ర్య దష్ట

నగ్న మానవాకృతి కాల బిలం స్ఫురించడానికి

చాలీచాలని ఆఛ్చాదనముతో -

ఈ చెట్లతో ఎవరు మాట్లాడుతారు?

ఇప్పుడు ఎవరు పలకరిస్తారు?

ఈ కాల జలద భరిత శీతల

అతి దారుణ చలిలో ఎవరు చెప్పు?  

కాదు, ప్రకృతి మనమూహించినంత

క్రూరురాలు కాదు

ఇప్పుడూ

ఈ చెట్లకి అతిధులు వస్తారు

(ఆకలితో) లేళ్ళు, బొచ్చు తోకల ఉడుతలు,

నీలి పిట్టలు, చికడీలు (తీతీ పిట్టలు), తొలిచే

వడ్రంగి పిట్టలు,

బొద్దు కాకులు, గువ్వలు, ఒక్కక్కప్పుడు

పెన్నడ పులుగు - కాని ఈ తీవ్ర చలిలో కూడ

ఈ ఎండుటాకులు

చెట్లతో రహస్యాలు మాట్లాడుతాయి!

ముసిముసి గుస గుసలు

చూస్తుంటే ప్రతీ గాలి హృదయ తరంగాలు

ఈ ఆకుల వీవనలకు చెప్తుంటాయి

ఏ సూక్ష్మ గాలి రాకపోకడలైనా సరే  

చెప్పకుండా వీటిని దాటి వెళ్ళ లేవు

అతి సున్నితపు అణు బల ముల్లు లాగ

పనిచేస్తాయి ఈ మేపిల్ ఎండుటాకుల మొనలు

దూరంనుంచి నాకు వినిపించవు

కొన్ని సన్న ధ్వని తరంగాలు,

ఈ పిల్ల గాలుల ఈల పాటలు

కాని (ఈ) ఎండు టాకుల చిన్ని చిన్ని

విసినకఱ్ఱలు, ఆ దిగువున నిరంతర

పారే జలపాతము, మనోజ్ఞ శాంతిలో

ఓలలాడే వనము.. మెరిసే హిమాపు తెరల్లోంచి  

ఇస్తాయి ప్రతి ప్రొద్దు

ఆనందము మాకు; నూత్న కొంగ్రొత్త

అనుభూతుల ఖని ఇది నాకు

ఎండి చచ్చి పోయాయి అనుకొంటాము

ఈ ఆకులు, కాని ఇప్పుడు ఎంతో

జీవముట్టిపడి పలకరిస్తాయి

ఓ రోజు వీటితో గర్భిత ఉడుతలు ఇల్లు

కాదు, గూడు కట్టుకొంటాయి

వీటిలో కాలాతీత ప్రాణము

నా ఊహల కందని జీవము

ఎల్లప్పుడూ అలరారును.   Copyright 2018 by the author

(This was initially posted at Sulekha. At times I wonder whether I still have the same grip on my mother tongue Telugu despite being away from the Telugu land. Originally I wrote the poem in English titled as "Brittle Leaves". In this Telugu translation I tried to bring forth the original emotion, thoughts, and good bit of fidelity. Due to the bitter cold, winter is sometimes harsh; but there is always more meaning and beauty in nature. I have only attempted to catch a minuscule of that enormous splendor!)