Oh ‘blithe spirit’, you wing through space.
In the far firmament you are just a speck to trace.
As you steer your way through the clouds high,
I see your floating shape against the sky

Lowering your pinions down to alight the ground
I hear your warbled words closer all around
How your eyes spot the rain water puddle
And come hopping to have a dip in the muddle

On this sunny September afternoon
You are going to have a cool bath soon
You flap your wings in quick succession up and down
Spattering little muddy showers from your gown

You are so shy that you bathe with all clothing on
That it takes time for you to feel dry and clean
So once your bath is over, you perch on a tree
Ruffling your feathers until they are moisture free

After preening every little feather to dry
Refreshed and enlivened, off you fly,
Singing melodious tunes all your way
And drowning the land with your sweet lay!

--------- Valsa George

Looking out through the window of his lonely cottage
The old man vacantly gazed,
At the lazy curl of smoke from the chimneys
His eyes further wandered over
to the dew dampened meadows
And the sloping paths that ran round

Over them how many times, he had rambled leisurely
With Jack, his spaniel that died a few months ago
Though single with no legacy to leave behind
Never before he felt so lonely as of late
And the memories of his dog keep haunting him.

One morning he found his dog lying stretched out
Alas! From that slumber, he didn’t rise!

Now with nothing to look forward to in life
He is in no hurry to leave his cottage as before
Each day starts with the same ritual
Every day the old man would brew his tea
Pour it steaming into his large porcelain mug
And gets settled on a chair by the table
Looking through the small window,
His main opening into the wider world

Sometimes from the pantry
He would bring a can of biscuits
And munch a few along with his cup of tea
This, he did as an unfailing routine
When his dog Jack was with him!
Every morning the dog would be there at his feet
Its greedy eyes glued to the biscuits in his hand
When there was but just one left with him,
He would lift the biscuit right over the dog’s head
A cue for Jack to stand up and have his share

When it rises up wagging its tail in joy
Sometimes he would place his fore finger on his lips
And the dog discerning what its master meant
Would soon sit down obediently and remain quiet
When he got convinced that Jack took his orders,
He would hold the biscuit between his fingers.
When on its hind legs it rises, balancing into a waltzing step,
The biscuit would be dropped into its gaping mouth!

Now each day as he sips his tea
He sorely misses his dog and its pranks
His world is so cold and he feels so lost
Once his dog shared his board and owned his bed
More than ever he missed him now
Who stood so faithful unto the last

With mist blurring his eyes and with a sigh
The old man once more looked into the meadows far away!