Rama The Consort Of Sita Poem by Michael Wooff

In this grove of Jetavana as in Eden
Rama stands with his beloved sloe-eyed Sita.
Here all is light and sweetness, here lurks no demon
To disturb a meditation on the Gita.
Rama plays his flute. Sita gazes at the sky
As if she saw a bird, some passing suparna.
The colour of her scarf is lapis lazuli.
Her tall, tranquil husband contemplates nirvana.
Their slightly-parted lips pronounce the sacred 'Om'
In gratitude for gifts of beauty, youth and joy,
As blissful lovers do, in blissful unison.
Is there then nothing in this bower to annoy
Them? Rama's finger points to the imagined bird
And Sita scowls just slightly as though overheard.