As boy, I was stranger to the winter and spring,
but an honoured child of the summer and rain:
I hardly marked the winter’s tree,
or the movement of the spring
But summer time was for play and swim
and hours beneath the largesse of the sky
that looked down with its shutless eye
on worlds I saw and did not see.
And with the rains, then all around
the waters hurried fast and free
and jalpātas* burbled by the door
as I jumped with my father through puddles undeep.
So, now, if I rhyme of the winter and spring,
they are my dues to a poetry
with its sense of time and its geographies
For when I was boy with the world at my feet,
the cut of the winter and the rich of the spring
were masked by the wet of the rain and the summer’s swing.
(written ca. late 2015)
*jalpāta ~ waterfall (in Kannada)