-Oliver Wendell Holmes
He stood there so tall and proud,
An old wind still lingering around.
He was a fine mountain,
Enveloped in trees , streams and fountains.
He looked beyond those mountains greater
To see his mother his creator.
In a warm wind suddenly covered was he,
She had come sensing his anxiety.
She caressed him in gentle strokes,
Soothing the trees, streams and the rocks.She was proud of him,her son
All that she in rain and sun had done.
She softened the rocks and -
Withered them into fine sand.
From which green shoots had -
Sprung up high and dyed.
She would blow the dark clouds over
For the beasts ,the birds and the flowers.
She guarded him from the heavy snows,
Lest he felt the bitter cold.
All these years of love and care
Had given her moments so proud and rare.
But she wouldn't stay there for long,
Her babies are waiting for their bed time song.
--Rahul Nair
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