The Mountains

By Debashree Sarkar

I hold the greens in my breast

And protect them

Like a mother;

I give way to the brimming rivers

Flowing through me

Hither and thither.

The golden shimmer falls

On the boughs of the greens,

Turning the leaves golden;

I stand upright

Witnessing it all,

With the children in my lap laden.

The azure blanket above

With lumps of cotton scattered

Protects me like a mother;

I stand upright

With the greens in my arms,

Witnessing the seasons occur.

I form,

I change over the years,

But I do not expire.

I have risen from the soil,

And I will go back to it,

I am the nursling of the geosphere.

By Debashree Sarkar