The Wind.. Poem by Veeraiyah Subbulakshmi

Wind, you are back,
You are on the track,
Traveling through the window panes,
You giggle, splash and scream,
Two or three bedrooms,
Has the uncooked kitchen,
Nothing to offer to you,
To take along to the next,
Door nostrils, go in and come out,
In air con tubes, get shivered with chemical loads,
No one needs you to touch their skin,
Covered themselves with wolf’s fur,
Monotonous life in the enclosed din,
You are under detention until someone,
Let the door open for you to escape,
The cousins are caught and have to go through,
The ‘luxurious’ life in the pot,
Wind, you are back,
You are on the track,
To rush through the trees,
Spanking the buds and flowers,
Fly across the range where the cattle can gaze,
Brush the manes of horses to gallop and prance,
Carry those butterflies to look for their cocoons,
You can go up to the spheres that circle the earth,
Collect the smell of the cakes and left over food,
Heap of it found nearer to the commercial incinerators,
Blow on our land, have the taste of fresh food,
From the nook, a thin mother toils and shares,
Walk through our land, not run over it,
You are too strong and you may break our eating bowls,
You are the real traveler, changing the odorous attires,
Smell of cow dung, the stuffy winter clothes,
Humid tropical sweat, seldom washed jeans pants,
Fragrant spices of rosemary, Basil and oregano,
You are too quick to take and quit,
Enter and exit, but always back to excite.