UTSA - The Condoville
Giant metallic birds glide across the misty haze of Time,
Piercing the cloudy canopy of never ending skies.
The green grass grows quiet and greener still in the final soft
Subdued farewell to daylight.
The thin blue snaking roads turn several scales deeper in hue.
In the mid-range of my vision lies a heap of still silver water
Motionless as a field of salt.
And farthest away under the fathomless sky the dark green woods
Beckon to us city beings.
Guardian of a differing world.
As a few doll like figures on cycle pass by –I can almost see the
Untouched village and rural marketplace
In my mind’s eye.
I can sense quiet evenings - grannies mothers and young wives
As they sing their sons to sleep, and oil and braid their daughters’ hair,
And clear up the ashes from the ovens and the leaves from the yards.
And bear casual witness
To the vast range and motion of the skies
The stars, the clouds the moon and the wind - nonchalantly
Cradled in nature…
And casually continue with their small talk –
I keep still and pray the beauty of this evening may remain
Frozen in the fiber of my soul
For endless replays...
Giant metallic birds glide across the misty haze of Time,
Piercing the cloudy canopy of never ending skies.
The green grass grows quiet and greener still in the final soft
Subdued farewell to daylight.
The thin blue snaking roads turn several scales deeper in hue.
In the mid-range of my vision lies a heap of still silver water
Motionless as a field of salt.
And farthest away under the fathomless sky the dark green woods
Beckon to us city beings.
Guardian of a differing world.
As a few doll like figures on cycle pass by –I can almost see the
Untouched village and rural marketplace
In my mind’s eye.
I can sense quiet evenings - grannies mothers and young wives
As they sing their sons to sleep, and oil and braid their daughters’ hair,
And clear up the ashes from the ovens and the leaves from the yards.
And bear casual witness
To the vast range and motion of the skies
The stars, the clouds the moon and the wind - nonchalantly
Cradled in nature…
And casually continue with their small talk –
I keep still and pray the beauty of this evening may remain
Frozen in the fiber of my soul
For endless replays...
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(c) Amrita Valan 2014
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