Morning Glory

morning yard

Opening the blinds
of the kitchen window,
looking out into the yard,
I let the golden rays bathe my space
as the story unfolds.
A lady dressed in red and green
poses in joie de vivre.
She’s Camellia in full bloom.
In their white, spotless attire
caressed by the morning breeze,
stand the cherry blossoms
blending beautifully against the canopy
of the azure skies.
I see the bluebird, hopping from one branch
to the next, in that bare tree.
It is the maple sapling gifted to me with love
several years ago on Mother’s Day
that waits in earnest,
soon to be clothed in green.
The fraternity of birdies in the yard
tweet and chirp.
Failing to decipher what they say,
I surmise:
It’s nothing else but a rhapsody of life;
In unison they sing a similar tune
for they are the harbingers of spring.
Painting a landscape in my mind,
in eagerness I live
the experience yet to come.
A mix of the mild cold and pleasant warmth
sings a loving lullaby to my senses.
A rainbow variety of florals
adorns the gardens in the neighborhood.
The innocent brigade of tiny tots
emerges in the streets,
riding their bikes, beaming from ear to ear,
dipped in happiness, unalloyed.
Soon I’ll pray for the rains to wash
the yellow carpet of pollen dust
to clear the driveway
and ward off those allergies bothering me.
Days lengthen and roll into shorter nights.
A zillion miles away in my distant homeland,
the young and old revel
in the gaiety of the festive month.
A chorus of drums, flutes, harps,
and many more fills the air;
The melodies of Bihu songs soothe the ears.
It’s a symphony of love and hope
that the season brings.
In a wink, two, or three,
it’s time to welcome
the other sibling of Spring,
and there rings Summer
with her own joyous gifts.
And so I submerge in sweet reverie,
contemplating and enjoying the sights,
so simple yet pristine,
beautiful, paradisiac
As I drown in the magic of morning glory.


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