THE ONSET OF THE MONSOON II

There’s a freshness in the air,
anticipation everywhere,
can you feel the coming rain?
And if you feel its scent linger,
can you hear what its bringer,
the ocean wind, is saying?

There’s a freshness in the air,
anticipation everywhere,
can you see the coming rain?
From the flashes up there,
can you tell when and where
the rain-gods will be playing?

There’s a freshness in the air,
anticipation everywhere,
can you hear the coming rain?
A roar above is proof
That soon, on your roof,
The rain dance will begin again.

BY THE RIVERSIDE

You can almost feel the time stop,
it’s so peaceful by the riverside;
you can hear the whisper of every drop
that rides on every tide.

The waves speak a language
that has not a word,
yet, is more beautiful
than anything you’ve heard;
for when the magical music of silence does play,
you wonder why you ever speak, anyway.

Slowly, the evening,
in the night’s shadow
does hide,
its long, languid race
is run,
but the magic
by the riverside
has only just begun.

-2011

Image : NightRiver by Latyrx @ Deviantart

http://latyrx.deviantart.com/art/Night-River-213378806

SEVEN DROPS OF RAIN

Seven drops of rain
land gently on my hand,
each one, I see,
has its own, unique beauty.

The first is so well groomed,
and perfectly round,
it looks like it’s seen the world
and traveled all around.

The second moves mischievously,
like a playful child,
naive and trusting,
but carefree and wild.

The third sits quietly
on my palm,
perfectly still,
content and calm.

The fourth is simply lovely
to look upon,
to mesmerize the senses
it seems to have been born.

The fifth seems awkward
but also has qualities rare;
it shields the others
with great love and care.

Number six appears to be in a fix,
for it knows not what to do,
but when it finds its niche,
it will surpass the others too.

The last, hollow and empty,
has everything all the same,
the nameless one,
to which you could give any name.

-Written in 2011

SMALL WONDERS

The mesmerizing, magical melody of music,
A song full of warmth, like a gently burning wick;
The sound of silence, full of wisdom unbroken,
A word of comfort and hope, well spoken.

Giant, dark clouds bringing the welcome rain,
A roar of thunder that dwarfs Earthly pain,
The whispering of tides on an ocean vast,
The whistling of the wind, full of memories past.

The comforting chirp of a bird on a lonely stretch of road,
A helping hand out of nowhere, to carry half your load;
A night lit up by the light of many a radiant star,
The mirror of self-awareness, revealing how lovely you really are.

-Written in Feb 2012

THE ONSET OF THE MONSOON

With the nervous excitement
of a bride on her wedding day,
the parched Earth prepares herself
for the shower of blessings coming her way.

Woven with the fierce fabric of the monsoon,
her dress she will begin to drape,
as these arid lands will be enlivened soon,
for from the coming storm there is no escape.

With a thunderous beat, it comes, lightning quick,
the sweet ocean winds are its wings,
it brings cheer to the summer-sick,
while the joyful farmer sings.

Drenched, in delight the willows weep,
and children cry with laughter and mirth,
as shepherds try to gather their sheep,
even birdsong, once dry, is now alive like the Earth.