The Rain Dance
I sit next to the window pane,
The rain, it has started once again,
The mist and froth blows across my face,
And the rain drops fall down like beads on a lace.
A crow pheasant sits in my neighbour’s garage,
Drying herself after the rain disturbed her plumage,
And the old and yellow leaves of my jackfruit tree have
begun to fall,
Twisting, twirling and dancing through it all.
The blue mountains play their game of hide and seek,
With the clouds hiding them and filling up their creeks,
And the frogs and toads seems to croak on and on,
Oblivious of my grandmother’s disapproving frown.
With all this beauty around,
There is no place else I’ll sit than the one I have found,
And there is nothing else I’d rather do,
Than sit and write poetry for me and you.
Mukund Palat Rao
(August 27, 2011)
