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Meander
A typical arid evening in a Plateau City;
Vendors hasten home with baskets on the head,
after a fruitful hawking;
To light the fire for hungry mouths to be fed.
The sun is an hour away from the western horizon
everywhere so calm, not a leaf astir
A quick evening walk should be fair.
The stroll down the road turned several heads in stare
The gentle breeze stronger now, gathered momentum.
It turned to gale in a split second
the wind howled like an old man in despair.
Should the evening walk come to an end?
Was a thought to spare.
Distant bellow of roaring thunder clash;
preceded by the sheets of lightning flash.
The stroll turns into a slow prod
While the slight drizzle dims the evening light with fog.
There goes another clash and a flash!
Not a soul insight,
Except for the flip-flop rhythms of soaked sole.
The western horizon is quickly covered in black blanket
Devoid of any sparkles in the sky
The evening stroll turns to run, with a new passion
to venture into the natures’ quickly painted pastel.
The raindrops, hail like, drum the drenched crown
the sudden flying zinc off someone’s roof, drown.
The twilight sets the tone for gothic dance of the tamarind trees.
While the racing of the heart paces with the definite tread
another clash and the tall palm slashed
With coconut spray.
Dogging the hit of spray, the storm for companion, one dare!
In the platter of rain, the sudden flashes, and the roaring clashes,
runs the insane lone harrier.
The rising flood water sends the damp shoes free,
Off the sodden socks good enough for wading
A task ahead to find a handmade canoe
For the water so swift like a steep sweep.
Out of the night’s blue;
All calm again. The water recedes, as fast as it came.
The inky night sky set with trimming of specks of distant spark
Lights the ribbon like trail.
With hail no more,
I Presume, the pleasant nature to bring him home.
By: Shashi Moore
Poet's Corner 
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