A Picnic by the Pond

K Radhakumar

It’s a nice day;
We go for a picnic.
All my family enjoy picnicking.
The countryside can’t hide
The naked beauties of nature.
The winter has lost its sting
And there’s spring in the air.
Why have I forgotten it a long time?
Today I know why I felt lost:
I tried to divorce my life from Nature.
We eat our picnic by the pond.
The water of the pond is so clear
We can see the bottom of it.
At the heart of it
The sun shines brightly.
I draw the mental picture of a sexy woman
Clad in a see-through blouse
Dancing in the rain.
Small plants are tossing and turning
In the gentle breeze;
Bees are buzzing
Among the flowers on the banks.
Birds fly without inhibitions
And chirp and chirp tirelessly.
I feel the clouds have not gathered
In the deep, unending sky
And my life has begun to flower.
What’s there in the description
In the mere description of a beautiful sight?
Nothing. There’s nothing.
To say something is no poem;
To draw the pen picture
Of a nice day isn’t in itself a poem.
Today it’s different;
Today is a new day.
It’s not every day
A restless soul
Gets involved in the beauty itself.
I don’t live without it;
We are inseparable.
Poetry ooze from the depth of my soul
In a flash of inspiration.
I don’t write
Nor is it required –
The world before me is a great poem.
Am I a modern-day bard by the pond?
Suddenly I see my wife
My wife who has given birth to the idea
My wife who has organized the outdoor life
And her beauty has grown with age.
I see poetry in her smiles
And in her movements;