THE FECUND FIELDS OF FARLOW

There is a land, don’t ask me where,
Filled with nothing; yet, everything’s there.

There is no sun or shining star,
Yet light and warmth are spread afar.

There are no oceans, no rivers or seas,
Yet waves do dance, with mirth, as they please.

There are no birds, but there is lilting song,
Sweet, fulfilling, yet for more you long.

There are no trees that may flowers bring,
Still it feels like the midst of a blossoming spring.

There is no work, yet no dearth of things to do,
Everything’s always the same, still every moment is new.

And if you go there you will hear the subtle, supple sound,
Of perpetual gaiety and merriment, and laughter all around.

Alas! They say I must give it a name,
‘For how else will it retain its fame?’
And so, with an upward glance and a little bow,
I tell them, ‘these are the Fecund Fields of Farlow’.

– Written in 2005

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.

MY LOVE

As I sit by the shore,
On this serene, starry night,
Seeing you by my side,
The waves dance in delight.

There is so much said in silence
As you gently hold my hand,
Even the wind, impressed,
Starts sketching in the sand.

You look at me, with eyes
Whose beauty no words can tell,
For they are filled with mischief,
And enchanting innocence as well.

As you lay your head upon my shoulder,
You seem to magically ease my pain,
For your smile has the warmth of a flame,
And the freshness of morning rain.

Is that a bird singing far away?
Or maybe, nearby? I cannot say.
For at this moment, I am lost in you;
Just you, my love.

-Written in 2009