The choir master above,

twirls his wand,

Casting a  musical spell ,

As raindrops,

tap dance on the leaves,
Mist sings a mystical melody,

Sniffing ,Heralding ,

the heady scent,

Of lime blossoms,

Wafting on the arm,

Of a dripping breeze;

strut  in rapturous wonder,

breaking  into vibrant iridescent flutter,

Preening, primping,

Twitching , quivering,

It’s flawless plumage,

Of brilliant blues and greens,
Each feather holds a prayer,

As  excited thunder claps

The fountain of life,

Inebriated, whistling, singing

Pirouetting , gyrating,

Kaleidoscope of colors abound,
Besotted butterflies,

Drunk on nectar,

Bounty of nature,

Soaked in ,

contagious , infectious spirit;
With a spring in every step,

I rush to lock the spring,

Pausing it in my mind’s eye,

As the choir master,

in all his effulgence,

Puts to shame,

Infinite Gods of beauty….
    © Aara Sharma

All rights reserved


2 thoughts on “Drenched

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