Like the distant crow of an early rooster
I am neither loud nor a whisper;
like the voice of cascading waterfalls
that quiet hearts, gently refreshes;
I am the music of silence,
I am the voice of enchantment.
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Let the rain come… Oh let it pour.
Hear! Lofty clouds gather together and let down the rain;
Oh spongy masses, squeeze out your juice
relief and refreshment for distraught earth loose.
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Indolence has called a feast -
A self-pity feast
“Come all that care to be my guests”
It says “plenty to drink and eat”.
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The sky is cheerfully active,
The clouds gather in a reunion party,
They thicken in solidarity,
As their mirthful laughter echoes down to earth
With splendid bright flashes.
The wind also plays tricks on the trees
And every thing hanging
They all fold over or bend double in laughter
Making gay noises.
Even the little animals can sniff
The anticipated, in the air,
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I lay and toss, but sleep wouldn’t come.
Toss and toss for a long while,
but I wait… until…
I begin to sense it
By sensing less and less,
I’m yet to snore but I sense nothing more or less,
Except – this buzz, this persistent noise -
this mischievous thing that wouldn’t let me sleep.
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When the dials of a lottery machine spin
and hearts beat to match it’s fast clocking,
it may seem like the dials have a mind of their own
and with centripetal resolution know where they’re going.
But when the pointer finally rests, the result is nothing new;
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I had never been distressed so
I felt so alone
Not even a distant but warm hello
From a loved one over the phone
And then my spirit was just too low
To feel my favorite music’s comforting tone.
Under my head felt my pillow
Cold as a graveyard stone.
A legendary portrait of the primitive African woman.
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Once again from my window
Down across the street she roams
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Now and then a stranger or event
rings a familiar bell
and I’m caught wondering
how it’s a small world really.
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