tales of Suchita

There is a river that flows 
Near my house and my rooms window overlooks the silvery strip
When it rushes I know the monsoon has arrived 
When it thins down to a trickle I know the winters are nearby 
When it attracts people and children, summer is here 
And when tiny red droplets like flowers emerge, it tells me spring is in the air. 

The wind that comes in from the river 
carries songs on its wings of
Faraway places – of places where 
no river or wind sings and of 
people who have forgotten the songs of the seasons. 
Who could be such folks I wonder, 
who don’t remember the very earth 
that birthed them 
who cannot hear her voice despite the ability they were born with?

So this warm summer morning
I send out a prayer
On the arms of the wind
Through the warmth of the sun
And the sounds of the water
That you find your way back to –
This bountiful earth
The dark, cold space
And the sparkling night followed by a morning full of possibilities.

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For Letter P, written as part of #BlogchatterA2Z