Poetry

Sounds of a Storm

A poem by our guest author Lalita Arya

The wind moans outside my window
as angry trees knock their dried branches
against the roof of my bedroom.
Raindrops spatter in raga mode on the panes of glass
some hurriedly dropping in tears as they cry
foul of weather.
The fir trees whose leaves never abandon them
Even in the whitest winter
Are dancing a crazy tango
As I look fearing them fall.
……….Are those moans?
……….Wait a minute… What are they?
……….I got up & tried to open the door,
……….To track the sound
……….but the wind howled at me
……….I quickly pulled it shut.
……….but that moan? Did it really tearfully sob
……….Mumm…mummaa?
sounds of almost human sentient pain.
I know there are birds that have been
nestling in the eaves of spring.
But do birds actually moan in sorrow.
Is this storm a warning?
Open not your door to the winds of bad fortune,
Stay in the nest like the wise bird did.
And moan if you may but moan inside.

***
Boston MA
April 13, 2020

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