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by Anuradha Vijayakrishnan
To the frog at my doorstep that sang all night
To the cicadas that held unbroken vigil and would not sleep at dawn
To the rain clouds that held back till they burst
To gardens of wild jasmine that bloomed early this year
To glow worms that gave me fire for as long
as it was needed
To the drenched clumps of grass that smell of moth wings
and butterfly love
To the golden deer that lingered just beyond
my window
To the white curtains that danced for my pleasure
To the leftover noisiness of this marvellous day
To the shining lights of the neighbours and their last
ashen cigarettes
To broken glass trails that will show the way to strangers
To the quiet beating of my amazing heart
To my shaking hands
To blue ink and black and bruises that may or may not heal
To rivers that will swell and continents that will shift
To summers and monsoons and climactic
thunderbolts that will strike at will
To cicadas that live for a day and to the frog at my doorstep
that sleeps now exhausted
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