It darted in the deep brown woods
and clapped and cooed and laughed and croaked.
It swooped itself, down to the clovers,
and rose high among the aged oaks.
When crisp butterflies visited wild flowers,
it fluttered beside them, holding its tongue.
Secretly it gulped in their myriad colours;
not knowing it drank reflections of the sun.
It pranced in troves amidst coarse tendrils,
and slept beside the foxes at night.
When the birds chirped their melodies at dawn,
it woke startled and fled away in fright.
It sprinted into the subfusc caves,
and lay suffused in its hollow requiem.
It spread its arms in sadistic embrace;
to devour the lioness’ hungry scream.
It twirled with the leaves lying on the earth,
and glided with the snakes in tow.
It followed the deers to the glistening rivers,
and in the merry of the waters, it was found no more…
P.S.: For all those times when silence talks and all those times when the sounds of the river muffles it.
Special thanks to my sister for asking me to change the poem from passive to active. I think it has made a big difference.