The passing

The passing

The trees stood still in the afternoon's sweltering heat,
Not a leaf moved, no branches dipped to meet,
Until a gentle breeze , passed that way,
Bounced the branches , made the leaves flutter and say,
The breath of life may pass from form to form,
But it's underlying truth prevails,
And what animates ,
And that moment of animated truth,
This eternal relationship display,
Leaves behind the pleasant sound of rustling leaves,
For the listener, as it passes on its way.

--shubha