It’s not the morning sun
But the moon during the dawn

It’s not the morning sun
But the moon during the dawn

The day dawns in my courtyard ,
As the silent sun rays play on the green grasses ,
The shy squirrels run squeaking on the tree branches nearby ,
Slowly I open my window to see the world beyond…
Activity resumes in my neighboring avenues ,
As the street dogs play among themselves
The morning walkers gather at the tea stall, gossiping
Speeding crowds upsurge along the city roads,
as monsoon clouds cluster and collide thundering across a serene sky,
a soft tender morning opens out to full bloomed day
I am too , part of these busied goings ,
Rushing through a road jam-packed with whistling cabbies and colorful crowds,
The hills, the horizons and the vibrant earth
Resonate in my heart and in my poetry ,
Poetry that rouses me
Rising in me ,
To the living moments
©®Bishnu Charan Parida
Thanks for joining me!
Good company in a journey makes the way seem shorter. — Izaak Walton
