Nature

The way she adorns her beauty in the midst of

scorching summer,
The way she preserves her grace even in the bareness
of autumn,
In robes of varied colours,
Often a lush green,
Sometimes the colour of magnificent gold with the
blush of crimson;
She is humble with a sense of divinity,
There is a vigour even in her serenity,
She is worshiped by allBe it the king of all lands or mere a peasant,
Be it a sinful self or a priest.
She is the master creator and safeguards her creation,
But when the time comes, also leads the course of
annihilation,
She changes with every passing second
Yet has always been the same,
You must be wondering who is she?
Mother nature is her name.
With her gentle brush strokes, she shows a new
picture everyday,
She is the master artist, who designs the canvas in her
own way;
She weaves the fabric of life with threads of splended
colours, which sometimes has traces of grey,
Let her blessings be forever bestowed upon us, that is
all we pray
-Anjali Sengupta