I sat there looking out of the window,
With a gaze fixed afar,
The wind wafts gently, rustling a few leaves,
My mind, wavered and dreamy.

As the western winds recede from the north,
The clouds became dry and rising high,
Soon the rains will fade,
Days, will become murk and cold.

Above the plains, on the misty mountains,
The river streams down to the shores of Mhadai
Finding a way past green fields and rugged terrain
Steady mostly; gently it flows.

A brazen kite is seen on top of the acacia,
Looking beyond and musing a face,
The tree sways gently in the light wind,
unperturbed, she remains perched high.

The wooden boat made of tempered wood,
Lay on the bare sand of the waning shore
Beyond the breaking waves, lies a world of peril and riches,
Yet, it lies on the sands, lifeless

A bee buzzed into my garden,
To the yellow flower with petals so wide,
In search of honey, so laden and rich
It buzzes in front, to feel the good.

* * *

Something moved in the garden,
Along the fence, in speed and sound
I strained to the left, looking hard to figure
My thoughts revoked, violent and vehement,

The winds gathered speed,
Above the plains, fast and swift
Where it blows to, it knows no clear
Taking apart the silky white clouds

The land steeped low,
Towards the valley far beyond
The course turned narrow, in rapids of frevour
Foaming and Gushing, the water turned white.

In a wink of an eye,
The kite dived swiftly,
To the moving bushes beyond my house and the tree
Flapping and Hunting with claws so sharp.

Panting and pulling, the fisherman took the boat to the sea,
Above the crashing waves and the sand so ungiving
To the sea so violent and rough
Far from the land of safe and sure.

The wind blew heavy,
Took the bee buzzing away from the flower,
It flies away from the garden in my house
In search of good, which was promised but not given

* * *

A peacock flew into my garden,
With all its feathers circled up, to my awe,
Dancing and echoing sounds to its mate,
My heart set into a spiral of glee

The mountain peaks obstruct the winds,
Swirling it below to the misty slopes
Laden in water and richness of the air
The last rains it receives, the land welcomes in joy

The land stops at the cliff,
Water came thundering down in a fall so majestic
Into the lake so calm and placid,
Sparks a rainbow on the sky above

The rustle in the bushes comes to a still,
The Kite flies upward in a trail so straight,
To the acacia and the branch she was perched,
Her eyes pleased, gleaming with content.

At daybreak, the shore is seen,
The waves give a helping hand towards the land so dear,
Pushed into the sand which glitters,
With a catch so heavy, would keep it away from the sea for a while.

Across the fields of green, the bees flies,
Finding trees of cassia, so yellow, so many
The afternoon kills the winds in speed
For a feast that it yearned, indeed.