the sound of rain

the sound of rain

saturday evening

the thirty first

bhādra

. . .

“the long night

the sound of rain

says what i think.”

gochiku 

my days go on like a song, playing on loop.

a song composed of love,

housework, picture-taking,

window-gazing, sky-watching,

meeting people new and old in books and songs,

and so much quiet beauty.

like the soft glow of our morning diya lit by saanjh these days,

the familiar hum of the washing machine

taking care of the laundry, especially in the monsoon,

sunlight lilting between the leaves

of the rudra palash outside my window,

and that lone crow

perched on one of its branch right now

are also part of the song.

this morning, a watchman

giving me a handful of champas, unaccompanied by words.

the sudden afternoon downpour and

the dimming of daylight.

seasons come, dance, and leave.

i sit and watch them;

my days sing on.

. . .