THE BANYAN AT EVENING

Beside the road the banyan stands, With roots like old and patient hands. It watches carts and people pass, While sunset rests upon the grass. The parrots come from distant skies, Green little sparks before my eyes. They fill the branches, loud and free, Then vanish deep within the tree. Its hanging roots touch earth below, As if they seek the past they know. Each one grows firm from day to day, And holds the winds of time away. The evening breeze moves leaf by leaf, And carries off the day’s old grief. Beneath its shade, the restless mind Can leave the hurry far behind. The banyan speaks without a sound: Stand strong, keep both feet on the ground. Give shade to all who cross your way, And grow more generous every day.