Ode to the Dancing Tree

​If it sways

in tune with the wind,
I would call it a tree

with conviction...

Toward the music in the storm,

the rhythm in the dust

it kicks up,

our powdered egos.

Oh, indeed what we need

is conviction, a bit of honesty.

The world craves such follies,

to save itself from radios,

and speeches of bearded supremos,

Sundays, weekdays, every day,

while we seek corners where 

there is music, and also some silence.

The trees have stopped their dance,

the wind is but a tired labourer

trudging home,

after a toil for relevance.

It is monsoon, 

but these seasons hardly matter.

Yet we long for the rush,

some melody, and some stillness.​

-- Leslie Xavier