Birthday Gift Poem by Prasanna Mishra

It was laden with fruits again this year
As it was each year
Cuckoos hid behind its rich foliage again this year
And sang, as they did, each year.
I fed it with backyard manure this year
As I did, each year.
I dug a trench around it this year
As I hadn’t done, before.
A weather-proof cover did surface
That had not shown before
A small note in my hand
Written two decades ago
On a cool September morning
She had fever
Arranging her woolen shawl
Against the blowing wind
She had planted, smiling
A birthday gift to me, for ever.
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