The Window

My man of art, my man of immense, infinite poetry!

TIGGA TALES

Nights of rain, days of blaze,
Colours of dusk and dawns of haze,
Irksome barks and whispered purrs,
Clasps of thunder 
Sky falling ‘sunder, 
A bamboo creak, the roaring wind,
A bolt of light, the stroke of night, 
The whiff of dung, the stink of roe, 
The joy of life, the gloom of woe,
The temple gong, the bells of church, 
A gypsy calling on a search,
The mango tree with its swooning leaves,
And songs that ride on the selfsame breeze —
Of pigeons and parakeets,
The tailorbird’s plea that life awaits, 
The owlet crying the night awake —
Voices of Earth amid the din of men,
Quakes of clarity in a sea of vain,
The warmth of the summer and the crisps of spring, 
An aperture through which 
To snitch with wistful eyes
The moments of my beloved’s leave,
And the rousing sight of her joyous turn, —…

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