THE CALL OF THE ROOT BRIDGES by Rajat Srivastava
as the blue pearls dance on my roof tin….
and the the fragrance of wet sand fills the air..
I can hear a call from a thousand miles..
of the root bridges and the rocky stair..
cosseted in nature’s laps, protected by the forest wraps,
befriended by the river wild, hidden from the wilder traps.
amidst the lows of the meandering streams,
and the highs of the voluminous falls;
where in open sunlight, the verdant gleams,
and in haunting mists, the thunder calls.
poised by the early morning waffs,
we enter the forest with our wooden staffs,
oblivious of what it had in store,
we readily followed the jungle lore.
Greeted by orchids and ferns,
as we miss many precarious turns,
from tropical trees, sparkly drops drip,
as on slippery steps, we avoid a trip..
the words shall fail to tell,
as if someone had cast a spell,
we saw a bridge from elven land,
a thousand pounds it could withstand..
a mighty old banyan
with roots like serpents,
with curves and bents.
on its feet this giant tree,
gave the passers a walk for free,
on the river of rush and rapid,
this natural wonder looks so placid….
When you hold your breath
at the panoramic view,
feel the spirit and colors
that these lands imbue;
lend your ear to the valley,
lying below these mighty walls,
for you shall surely hear,
the amazing root bridges call..
Rajat Srivastava, [email protected]