I viewed them framed and through my eyelids,
Just light shade of darker against whiter bright.
I knew they were trees as I knew where I'd slept,
Through my closed lids, the window's lacy curtains.
An early morning rorschach game of Nature
Gently suggesting the day in soft dreamy lines.
They were tall, standing in a row, not near, not far,
Tall enough to seem this third floor close to ground,
Or on mutual terms, enjoying some visual reciprocity.
I wondered if they started on a not faraway fairway,
Dreamy romantic aesthetics, or, eyes shut realist,
Adjacent to the building's busy parking lot below.
Light green picture streamed as lids lifted over eyes,
Looking thataway. Those genteel synthetic laces weren't
To let in more without a firm drawing to their sides. (Note:
Curtains are a room's eyelids, lace early morning ones.)
But branches moved and leaves waved, the room's AC
Made it feel cool out there, a misty spring from Ghoom.
Rise and shine! At window, I finally saw them in colour!
Giant radhachura trees, not in season, just a handful
Of yellow flowers in all their four-storied height, much
Of reddish-brown seed-packets, crisply exhibited,
Alongside the lush thick leaves of green, bright, deep.
Between in blue a fluorescent golfer moved quickly on.
Sanjib Basu 