Rain of spring


By Sharon St Joan


Now fire licks


At the fainting feet


Of the demon-thieves,


While on the far hill


In the rain


Of spring, the rough-barked cedars


Stretch out their laughing leaves.


Hanuman, now is the time to lay waste


The cities of pain


Born on the plains of deception.


Fly through the night


With your tail that flicks


Cinders, sparks of the setting sun.


Dry up the dark


Path of the cracked, lamenting bones.


Burn up the pits of Ravana, smoldering long


Where the wan-faced, wailing meet


To cower and hide.


Hanuman, hasten at dawn, ride


On the clear ringing winds


Of Vayu, that free the cliffs and sands


From dust and choking must,


That impel the bright-winged forests


To flower


Again in the morning mists,


While only the pure song


Of the meadowlark


Sings to the musical waters


That spill


Down the granite stones


In the rainbowed ark


Of light.


Photo: Rashed-Al-Qayum / © the raqs / Wikimedia Commons / This work has been released into the public domain by its author, Rashed-Al-Qayum at English Wikipedia. This applies worldwide. / Madhabkunda Water-Fall, Maulvibazar, Bangladesh.


Written March 11, 2016.


© 2016, Sharon St Joan









March 11, 2016

Leave a Reply