Waterfalls Poem by Pankajam Kottarath

At the threshold of summer
April had its vanquished songs
May started with hot spells
nights, yearned for dying cool winds
Sticky sleepless nights
sought the grip of tedium to lose
Weird times craved earnest
for just the cuddle of chill
and we set-off thro' shadowed woods
to the congregation
of streams and rivers,
mountains and forests
and found ourselves flocked
on the lap of Western Ghats,
a rendezvous ever cherished.

Starting serenely
from upper reaches,
percolate down into a rivulet
for a little while
crashing thro' ravines,
cascades down
in milky white,
a silver band
silhouetting velvet green,
to fall upon gently
on the verdant vistas
with beckoning music,
the gurgling of falling water
and a daring appeal,
Niagra of India, indeed
makes one wholly passionate.

Mute and motionless
stood each of us
struck by a blinding flash.
A sensual feast, ever green
as the scenic locales
at Athirappalli

sadly to return
with untamed nostalgia
gaining more might
and an echoing question
to Mother Nature
How can she, be
showing diverse states
chill one side
while in disdain
blaze the other,
so strikingly different?