By Gargi Guha

Rains,
Yet again,
Through a curtain of coconut fronds.
I know, I must forget plans
or try to be practical. Or nice.
For, this is a call
To put aside every reason
that weighs down.
As fishermen do,
when they fold up their nets,
and put away their boats,
harbouring in their homes,
to pause their world.

And, so I sit
And think of the ending pages
of my life.
Might as well, while there’s time
The closing notes to this song on earth
how would they sound?
I count my losses and loves
And then,
jumble up everything like a child,
A tad sullen, with the ways of this world.
And look out.

A teeny bulbul
Sheltering amidst peepul branches
Looks back,
She's been building
Her nest of twigs,
Leaves, sprigs and all,
This here, her world,
is all there is in her grand scheme of things.
There now, another spray from above
And, then lightning,
Quivering,
Silvering.

Listen, all of this math is an impossible task
When this world is as impossibly marvellous
As this,
Washed anew by rains.

Gargi Guha is a writer based in South Goa. Her poetry draws from nature and its varied facets, impermanence and the reminder to return to the present moment. She traded a 20year corporate career in luxury hotels for the pleasures of the analog life of a writer. Gargi holds a monthly gathering of poets @PoetsofGoa

Banner image by Hasan Pasha downloaded from Unsplash.com