The Sky Makes Mountains Poem by BASAB CHAUDHURI

The sky has no mountains,
so it makes do with clouds—
in shifting hues and shapes
they rise into the Alps,
the Himalayas,
or Mount St. Helens—
once shattered by fire.

From another angle, the sun
lays snow upon their peaks—
a silver lining.

At times the sky is a moody woman,
draped in a sari of marvellous white;
then, without warning,
it darkens into the Western Ghats,
its deep blue forests
turning black from afar.

The sky, an artist,
opens before me a book of paintings—
each page
a world of peaks and colours.