Dawn melody

A
sharp November dawn,
he cycles thru
the crooked path
in the midst
of the verdant fields,
the milk cans
banging in protest
as the cycle
hiccups
over a stubborn field rock.


Meditating,
emerging,
she wraps her shawl
tighter,
she waits,
breathing in
the exquisite aroma
of the ginger tea.

A whiff
of boiling milk,
copper and jasmine
honey, yogurt,
sugar, ghee
amidst
a Flutewallah
enjoying
vermillion,
conch shells,
garlands,
and
earthen oil
lights...

He stands,
crosses His right ankle
in front of the left,
and
lifts the flute
to the lips.

The Aarti over,
He watches amused
as a child
looks eagerly
at the prasad;
nods,
then raises the flute
and plays
once again,
the beautiful
Melody of Life.