There in the air, it hung, muted yet palpable,
like the inebriating scent of new rain on earth
with this signal morning alluded something,
as if challenging anyone there to swiftly respond.
Gazing at the far away mountains, waking up,
pulling away slowly the blanket of darkness
a purple sun above making a symphony of colors
she is caught in the waves of the mood, it's cadence
captures the spirit in a poem; it blooms on it's own.
Zestfully she reads it in her resounding voice,as if
to the chickens clucking around in the cluttered barn
there wasn't any audience other than the birds and the cattle;
a sudden change the chickens,strange, till the moment before
they were looking for a worm or two in the black earth.
As if forgotten all other things the chicken stood
their head held high, beaks open as if to peck
in an attentive posture, they stood listening to her,
the moment they got the tune right,started reciting it.
The cows in the shed turned to the direction of her voice,
as if it's a song, and it's for them she was singing .
