The Pristine Mount – Pidurangala


Along a road running through dense groves,
Under the dark vine arch in daylight,
Piercing crickets’ chirpings,
Wrapped in green velvet, lies Pidurangala, the mount.

Steps hoist the foot that treads,
Slopes spur the wanderer to clamber,
The cool of stone soothes the skin,
The gentle wind carries pollens of the wild.

The tiny tent that settled on the base,
Proffers the suave plopping sound of a drizzle,
Star-canopy behind the see-through cover,
Never fails to elate the thumping heart in tranquility.

The summit of the mount gives the most,
As the cycle of the sun paints the sky,
At dawn in mauve and orange at dusk,
Resembling colorful times from spring to autumn.

Image Credits –



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