it’s an old song and always the newest
the song of the seasons sung in monsoon time
like the Harivamsa with its belly load
of bellowing clouds of clouds that resemble
the indigo lotus the limbs of Krsna
the brooding sky but is it religion
or is it poetry?
the cycle of
the weather
the end of the hot season the season
of fires that blaze and blossoms too
setting fire to the minds of the people who
dream of rain they watch with excitement
as huge winds stir transformation
frogs and peacocks
cry out in excitement even Earth gasps
at the asthmatic air as the rain pelts
running rivulets through the forest
trees splintered at the wind’s fury
rivers swell uprooting those holding
the bank the earth even seems to bleed
with rakta
spilling into the ponds
the red soil leeching or earth’s blood
spilling
elephants raise their trunks and faces
to the sky cranes fly in after rain
nature bounces back from its dark
hurlings of the monsoon
fuelling the uncontainability of nature
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