I was in the wild garden few days ago,
Of conifers where pillars of pine,
And chestnut nurtured the foliage beneath.
How quite that garden was,
Where no breeze bothered the Cornelian cherry!
In a glade, you stood like a modest god,
With your soaring trunk and a giant canopy.
It appeared as if you were some
Ancient brethren of mountains
And in your silent kingdom,
Even sighing was an intrusion.
The tender branches of your canopy,
Exhibited an unsurpassable symmetry.
I heard of you and your species,
Gazed towards heaven in orderliness
As if ready for a march
With their mauds and bagpipes.
With furry leaves, you render care to the forest
And sieve nourishing aortal light,
For golden rods and anemones
In winters and strong winds,
You stand silently and gallantly as snow
Slips softly from your shapely branches.
Gunjan Joshi is an editor in a publishing house and a literary critic. Being an ardent nemophile and bibliophile, bliss for her is psithurism emanating from cedar trees, reading a classic hardback in a quaint coniferous forest, and historic art forms anywhere.