The glorious Spring welcomes the Spirits
Her gardens blooming in admiration
As She revels in transforming Mother Earth
Unfurling endless fields of flowers
Emanating instincts, Enthralling sensations
©® Somdatta Mitra (India)

There amongst Eden sat The Maiden
Reposed under a laden neem tree
Engaged engrossed in her imaginations
Immersed in Nature’s verdancy
Her hands indulging a painting
Colours and smears depict The Nightingale
Lonely she sits a blurry brown streak
~ ©®Michael Hislop (Australia)

The Maiden’s expressive eyes brighten amazed
In delight she chases a vagrant, a wee tiny squirrel
It escapes gratefully up a neighbor jackfruit tree
Gleeful relief, pink cheeks frozen, exhaustion
Meandering, The Maiden sups Providence’s fruit
Juices dripping down her cheeks to her bodice
Picturesque pictures, scenes of happiness and peace
~©®Somdatta Mitra (India)

Under the shade of the neem perches a nightingale’s likeness
Artistic scars etched on a canvas
Beautiful and animated
An image alive, yet not alive
Just The Nightingale sitting enraptured
Captured by The Maiden’s brush
Reality and her imagination eternally paired
The Maiden and The Nightingale courting immortality
~©®Michael Hislop (Australia)

Its rich repertoire The Nightingale sang tirelessly
Ceaselessly praising Life and glorifying Love
Broadcasting its Thanks in sacred song
The Maiden, sensitive and kind, dabbed some fine ochre yellow
To colour The Nightingale in mellow
With some linseed oil she too coloured the surrounding trees
Drawing them to bear their fruit
More mangoes for The Nightingale and her
~©®Somdatta Mitra (India)

And The Maiden’s melancholy melted
As The Nightingale’s mellow caught the scene
Turning the gaiety of the day to a solemn affair
The Nightingale began to sing a sad warble solo
Realization shared that suffused somber and sad
Spurring The Nightingale to sing
But bringing The Maiden to tear
~©®Michael Hislop (Australia)

And the gathering shadows bestow Their Gift upon The Nightingale
Donning it in a shiny black coat and unlocking its cage, the dimensional page
Liberated, free, The Nightingale alighted flew
Gazing down for a last time upon the painting, once home
The Maiden noticing her loss, whistled anew her tune
Her siren song to all the birds rejoicing in Spring
Returning to her canvas, she splashed about vibrant colours
Blues, yellows and reds in infinite layers and shapes
A gleam in her eyes as she painted an invitation poisoned
An oasis mirage to tempt the solitary song birds
~ ©®Somdatta Mitra (India)

And The Maiden’s sorrowful tones filled the forest
Wafting everywhere and even high above
Delivering a sound known well to The Falcon
Signifying, a captive song bird was loose
Ding, Ding, chimes the dinner bells
And from Heaven’s Heights The Falcon dove
A bullet of beak and talon aiming right for the neem
Then in a whoosh and flurry almost without movement and sound
Came a collision, a conjunction of events
And a sudden violent silence filled the forest
Extinguishing the song of The Nightingale
And ending the song of The Maiden
Amid a blizzard of leaves and feathers and memories
~©®Michael Hislop (Australia)

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