Within the mystic rain
Calls toward the distant gateway
To a deer-enchanted meadow,
While the white-
Finds her intended way
In the bobbing boat of cottonwood leaves
Along the weaving river of one day,
When the windows rush on by
From the train
No one knows,
In the evening
Of a lost spring,
In the foothills of the Western Ghats
Where the young Ganesha
For his mother, Parvati,
Eating a few –
Just one or two —
Trusting in the bright winds
Of eternity that growl,
That run past the rain,
Past the lumbering bears that prowl
Over the green hills of the forest of mist,
(Where does the rishi Agastya live now? Where
Does he walk long before the dawn
By the riverbanks of rain-washed song?)
And, way out beyond the moon
The deepening darkness – punctuated
Like the islands of the oceans,
With the star-winged flight
Of strange-patterned flocks
Of owls, all though the night,
(Though owls do not really fly in flocks)
Now the hours of dark have hesitated,
So the spirit, Ayanar, patrols
The village outskirts, his course
Goes round and round,
Brave on his tall horse,
Who, now and then, drops his head to drink,
While reflections glint within the bowls
Of the pool by the stream,
The lilting sound
Who play among the rocks,
All waiting to grow into frogs that will sing
Within the dream,
To bless the mystery of the being of all souls
Who are the One Soul – Brahman,
While the rain falls
Within the silver calls
Of the long-eared owl,
Awake, in the ever-misted night.
© Copyrght, Sharon St Joan, 2021
If you like this poem, you might also like this website, Forest Voices of India https://forestvoicesofindia.com
6 thoughts on “Within the rain”
I like this poem very much.
Thank you, Dawn. I’m glad you like it.
Thank you very much, Cindy!
Dear Sharon, Wonderful poem!
How beautifuly you have written and described about every tiny activity of this lovely creature.
I don’t have words to express my feelings….
Thank you, Ashima.