Like a jacaranda seed, light, blown by wind
Perfectly swaying like reeds in sync
Flying high like the birds and supersede
Tiny, a loner, all others dispersed
Once grown and nurtured
Then at some point captured to an interlude
Of a couple of events.
Snatching by the waters, downed by the faunas*
Intimidated by the storms, tossed by the moving leaves
Escaped scathing rain drops, soared like the eagles
To be buried in the soils, and by the farmers’ toils,
Grows tall to produce both big and small
Bitter and sweet, hot and cold
Depending on the time; on the season
All for a different, diverse and specific reason.
Love! The old feeling!