The waterlogged lands have long gone dry
The soil is lying cracked and parched
The frogs that crocked in shallow pools,
Nowhere on land or water to be seen
The once full river has thinned and narrowed
Into a greasy smudge of faded stain
On the long yard of brown earth
The road is a burning stretch of black
Sure it can make the water steam and sizzle
Quicker than in an electric ***
The sun is seen a flaming ball in the sky
Darting down spears of smarting beams


Heat like a spiteful scorpion’s sting
Burns the flesh and the bared scalp
Watermelons or chilled buttermilk
Cannot douse the midday heat
The fiery tongue of humid summer
Licks up the last residue of green
The woods dread the fall of a spark
That can ignite an inferno, anytime

The cattle stay still with frothy foam
Dripping down from their drooping tongues
A thirsty crow beside a dried up pond
Looks around for a drop of water
(But alas, not as lucky as the parable crow
That finds a jar of half filled elixir)
A line of black ants carry a carcass
Clambering up the cracked stump of a tree

The brown grass sings
And the Etna seethes!

I understand the importance of anchors
And know what can happen when the
Rope that ties them to their life is cut

But here in the warm sea of creativity
I can feel the wings of happiness beating
As geese draw giant arrows in a red sky

Love cherishes these precious moments as
It anticipates the next heartbeat of potential
While mother tide puts the salty beach to bed

Space is curved.
The straight line
a Euclidian fiction.
The very fabric of space,
the skin pulled in upon itself,
Light follows this curvature.
Nor is time the heartbeat of angels,
as we once thought,
but our own shaky construct.

The galaxies that we imagine
to be real prove to be
archaic images,
things that once were.
When we look into the heavens,
we look back in time.

When the light of our star
has traveled in one vast
cosmic arc
and returned to its source,
we shall know ourselves.

In that dawning
light will fail,
the stars dim and flicker.
Time itself will falter
and the voices of angels
will be heard.

While down the narrow path
in the morning at the park,
I found a leaf enjoying sunbath
on the tree beside the bush.

The leaf looked so fresh
while enjoying the food from sun,
stood out in this wide green mesh
and directed some food towards me.

There was a rock with a humble greet
I stumbled on it, bruised my feet
I had ignored the cuckoo on that tree
it did give me a warning tweet.

In this play of green and yellow shower
life thrives in trees and birds.
I fathom all these, and here I hover
I learn music , for it aligns my chords.

All of it started with the  smile of a flower,
which was an  answer to my wink to her,
then a wind brought her scented thought, to me
to mull over, smile again was the answer, I gave.

Thus began a chain, animals, birds and words,
soon became the links creating lilting tunes,
stars at night chimed in, their magical words
crafted by many hues of pulsating light, delighting us.

Even pain had a heart rending rhyme, a dying star
in the candor of that moment told us truths concealed,
a telescope distant would take her moment of  glory
for records,she fell, showering in to cosmic chasm, magnificently.
I whispered this to her ear, she was willing to join the chorus,

"Aren't we like the elements of nature, braided together,
just reach the core, through many ways possible,
make yourself  this clear for ever; we together make one,
it'd naturally dawn,  if you've nothing to jettison,
those unwanted baggage  stuffed, does nothing for one,
when one gathers this truth  much delight dawns,
love travels at the speed of light, you are just a beam."