Sudam Panigrahi

(26/01 / Jharsuguda)

For her


In the summer morning

The sun pops up, smiling

And resumes his operation

Of pilfering water from pond

And donating to the sky anon.



I see her serpentine gait,

Trudging softly on pebbles

With tinkle of trinkets,

As Alta around sole edges,

Sparkling while her

black plait dances.



My gaze follows that belle,

Bedecked with a veil,

To the dwindling pond,

As in her armpit,

A pitcher bonds.



Standing on a stone,

To Keep the Alta safe

She looks at the depleted bed,

Filling slowly and in installment,

Avoiding the lily leaves.

When I hear the displacing air,

From the pitcher,

Remember I the Sabd Vedi arrow

Of King Dasrath

And cry of dying Sraban.



As her sari rustles

Drenches it the dripping water,

I see her smile of satisfaction,

As pearl drops

And the rest

My pen does.

Submitted: Wednesday, September 18, 2013
Edited: Friday, September 20, 2013
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