The Jamun Tree

Poetry On Medium

A carelessly tossed seed

Becomes a mighty tree,

Growing at its own speed,

Beyond the second storey.

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New blossoms of Spring

Invite the koel* every dawn.

Mornings are for tuning in

To the rhythm of birdsong.

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Unripe clusters of Summer

Covered with night’s dew

Reflect the sunburst’s glimmer

Like pearls of verdant hue.

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As the year’s first rain shower

Heralds in the petrichor,

The squirrel that takes cover

Becomes the fruits’ first picker.

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Soon the multihued fruits

Tantalise all in the vicinity,

As rivalling monkey groups

Bicker for supremacy.

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The ripest of the purple goodness,

I pluck the juiciest fruit I see.

As I bite into the divine sweetness

I bow in gratitude to the Jamun tree.

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Thank you for reading this poem.

This is an encomium to the Java Plum (Jamun, Syzygium cumini) tree growing in my garden for years. This year, we enjoyed the first harvest of fruits.

*The cuckoo bird is called koel in India.