After the tempest

 

 

Amidst the days of  yawning noon

Between the strands that weave nest

The filtered rays of incandescent sun

Make criss cross patterns on basking hay

The dangling foliage on gentle breeze

Alters on ground the pattern of stable sun

The chirp that was incessant till now

Cracks at the stifling stillness that brews

There is now too much peace for comfort

Then the sun dashes behind a sudden cloud

And hides his face behind gloomy veil

The first gust of looming tempest

Unleashes thunder on the slumbering time

The ambush is swift and immense

To overpower the peace of day so far

Followed by an array of impactful blows

Till the time there is a surrender in ring

When the last blow is brutal enough

To end the uneven punches that fill gloves.

Even in that nasty hour of fury

There is a slender chirp hidden amidst wounds

That deafens all rage and din outside

Where we find ourselves to have given up

Despite the knock out on the slimy mat

A winner that sprouts from dormant sheath

His feeble foliage that is soft and nascent

Bends against all tempest and invasion

And bounces back on a conducive hour

Then the chirp that held him in testing times

Is no more found on the deserted nest

Somewhere the musk was within the soul.

 

Delhi

22.49 hrs

2052

19.3.23