THE BANYAN¹ TREE

    O YOU shaggy-headed banyan tree standing² on the bank of the pond, have you forgotten the little child, like the birds that have nested in your branches and left you？

    Do you not remember how he sat at the window and wondered at the tangle³ of your roots that plunged⁴ underground？

    The women would come to fill their jars in the pond, and your huge black shadow would wriggle⁵ on the water like sleep struggling to wake up.

    Sunlight danced on the ripples⁶ like restless tiny shuttles weaving golden tapestry⁷.

    Two ducks swam by the weedy margin⁸ above their shadows, and the child would sit still and think.

    He longed to be the wind and blow through your rustling⁹ branches, to be your shadow and lengthen¹⁰ with the day on the water, to be a bird and perch¹¹ on your top-most twig¹², and to float like those ducks among the weeds and shadows.