Winter woods

Moirangthem Minakshi Devi *

The winter woods seems hunger stricken like pale skull,
The last dewy leaf clinching onto sways away too with a frosty gust.
Last days of the year breaking through glacial cold,
In the unconscious dreams of lost woods apparently stock still.
The winter woods have a dark scent of bitter chocolate,
Of old rust of fallen twigs and mossed firs,
Fallen Bark and hummus blacken the forest floor.
I walk past the winter wood,with dank aroma in my hair,
Amongst the dewy brambles I smell the frost soaked woods,
The path ahead is littered with deceased leaves and molten rock.
The year has raced through all its richness,
Yet left a clear stricken view of the dead woods until the cold concludes.
The good birds seem fretful for the noble tree croak.
Quite solitary in the woods,the only sound I discern,
Is of easy wind and downy flakes.
But the dark too shalt pass, till I patiently sit back,
To wake up to splendorous summer mandarin after the snow thaws.