Like giant steel pincers, clouds rise out of the Arabian Sea, grab the sun by his flaxen hair, force open his mouth and yank out his blazing golden fangs. In the ensuing vapid gloom, the sightless wind, like a marauding elephant, searches for her lost shadow.
Nature leans against a prostrating coconut palm and fills her scrap book with new images- the thirsty rain sinking into the cracked lips of the fevered earth, valiant little feet testing the profundity of dimpled puddles, ancient rivers lecturing fresh waves on the painful depths of the next abyss…
Does she pause, quill propped on the disappearing horizon, when she sees him huddled under the leaky canopy the old Peepal tree? Does she know him- last year’s homeless man, still staring at the lighted window across the flooded street?
ripped from a notebook
that reckless paper boat
my first poem weeping in the rain