A Piano Chord Of Music Poem by Ananta Madhavan

In pre-dawn dark I grope my way to the high balcony
And gaze ahead at coconut treetops right ahead,
I like to see the rising sun at play
On the dark green spears of hanging fronds.
The early walkers relish the cooler air,
Tasting the morning before boredom begins.
The first sun-rays are like rapid fingers on the leaves,
Ranged like a piano keyboard on the higher fronds;
Chords in arpeggio, note after neighbour note,
In sequential harmony; every tone is touched
With solar indulgence. They are similar but not the same.

So too are we, distinct, uniquely different, but linked.
As notes in a chord, a tuneful song or aria composed for us.