In The Sylvan Setting

There's nothing like the lovely rustic charm Exuded by the far flung lush green country farm Where trees in majesty sweep heaven with their crown And birds, with celestial music, the surrounding valley drown Where the air, so pristine and sweet like the forest glade And Heaven, with rich profusion, bless the country wide. Where the rural folk in relentless toil, values and pride With their simple, artless and modest life reside My senses have ere long etched every sight n' sound Of that country side wherein my childhood inextricably bound To those days of bliss, I would like to retreat And splurge in memories that cascade down in surfeit. On a beautiful day with the sun shining bright And the white downy clouds lazily trailing west We walked down to the creek to catch the silvery fish And waited for them to come to the surface with a swish On the rocky bank, breathless as we sat Looking for the fish, greedily nibbling at the bait We felt the hook line suddenly going taut With something from the other end pulling it tight Of a sudden reflex, as we lifted the rod upright To our wild uproar, saw a fish dangling and twirling uptight. "Angling in a brook on a bright sunny day Is so much fun for the kids", we heard someone say. We went after dragon flies, by the side of the pond And all through the fields and the pastures beyond Meandering our way through vales, chasing butterflies That, from flower to flower do nimbly flutter by, We pace up and down, ever eager for the best catch To carry home that winged thing with no other match To shut it in a glass jar to survey it close And watch it splay its wings in resplendent gloss. Back from school when homework is done, Quickly, gathering friends, we move as one To the open ground, beyond the clump of trees To run and play in the evening breeze As black birds wing their way across the sky And the ruddy orb in the west is about to die, When shadows slowly shrink and shrivel And the dusky eve spreads a smoky veil, Only then, demurring, we leave our play Cursing the elements that Time doesn't stay Smutty and gritty, homeward, as we plough our way We promise once more, we would meet the next day. As hot summer fades and dark clouds gather round, When east wind scatters dry leaves from the ground, When elders announce the arrival of an impending shower, Stealthily, we plan to go swimming in the nearby river. On stormy nights as we lie, listening to the splatter of rain Over tiled roof with the clatter of a speeding train How swift, we drift involuntary to the castle of Slumber To be lulled asleep by songs of magical tone and timbre! Now, staying in the mad rush of a steaming city With people surreptitiously chasing goals so petty How I miss those yester years that are fled And yearn for the sylvan paths once more to tread! !