Nocturnal Nature

Pensively promenaded I, as impetuous as a poet,

To gather few jocund inklings at dusk– 

For sure, not as a bard

But– as a novice to nature:

Stalked I, bare-footed, anigh the lake;

Jabbed some spines beneath my feet.

Yon reconnoitred I, was any luminous light clandestined in water?

Else, did any celestial gem float off in the lake?

Nay! it's the waxing moon in the sky

That seemed to tread on water.

Paddled I, into the lake

To grab some pallied lilies:

Hardly perceived I any bloomed ones!

Or, had the lilies been sailed under false colour by the moon?

I knew not their intrigue,

Nor did I have any prescient criteria!

Chilliness of water benumbed me, so

Retrieved I, as cool as a cucumber to the bank.

Is this terra God's palette?

Obviously! Nature is the art of God:

Dark grey was lake's expanse;

Stood reeds, augustly, amidst the lake.

Casuarina broke into tumult,

When the west wind passed adrift it.

Glow-worms scattered round the bushes, as

Heard I, croaking of frogs.

I felt languished by chilliness

That pierced my breast and nostrils.

Homeward bound, strolled I,

For, I had been there behind my father's back.

As being benumbed by drastic cold,

I was at the end of my tether.

Soon felt I, in the arms of Morpheus,

On the grass, supine anigh the lake.

By morning, I began to fly off at a tangent,

When an highland lass harped on my shoulder.

I began to know the ropes of that wintry night,

For it coaxed me to sleep, like a lullaby

Thereby, no human can hardly be preponderate

In comparison to mother nature!