Embalmed and enameled
By a century of fissures,
Snaking tendrils reaching up
To the sky, uprooting the earth
A chainmail of ridges
Encrusted by bark like veins,
Frozen by time,
Contours of tentacles,
Revealed by sun-shine,
Planting “samaras” by the waves of palmakes,
Shaped like maple
For a century at a time,
A nation underfoot,
The city swarming ahead,
Unperturbed the ancient tree speaks,
In silent, sullen whispers of
Rustling leaves, and imaginary
Bulbs, budding with each breath, coming to life
At the touch of the rough-hewn, and
Coursed, tree-bark, racing to the sky
G.R. Nanda 