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they just float,
the days, when
the sun is to meet the rain;
the heat and sweat, corny;
those clouds cuddle, then
the days slowly shed light and
those bright patches turn dusky;
it’s rain in the dusk and
all the stories held up are passed,
summer whispers them to monsoon;
she is thunderous and chiming at times,
she writes them on the sand, sings
them to the birds;
monsoon, the poet, she fills the land
with stories and rhythm
and i huddle in the window seat
listening to her phenomenal music
Visit IGWRT for Get Listed-July (Word list--- heat, bird, easy, fling, pass, sweat,
corn, float, ice cream (that's considered one), bright, cricket, dusk)
Wonderful, the huddling in the window seat listening to the music of life.
ReplyDeleteI love floating days and thunderous rain and a monsoon poet
ReplyDeleteI love the monsoon being poet...
ReplyDeleteI love the monsoon poet! I find this line surprisingly evocative and moving: she writes them on the sand, sings them to the birds
ReplyDeletethis such a lovely dipping into the season of the rains - water is life and yet when it unleashes with such intensity - both welcomed and feared - I love the rhythm of this piece - it feels like a building up to a storm, but we are safely harboured - :)
ReplyDeleteWonderful. As the moment builds so do the lines.
ReplyDeleteI like the way you have lengthened your lines as the description evolves.
ReplyDeleteHow unique to see a monsoon as a poet.. So beautiful
ReplyDeleteThank you all ....!!
ReplyDelete