Archives for the month of: May, 2017

Summer pleasures!

Slipping on, beautiful, raw, fragrant, 

green, organic, henna mocassins,

on to a baking hot, brown skin…

Summer pleasures!

Cooling down amidst heady, 

exotic fragrances of moist,

crushed, tender green, henna leaves 

from my garden wanderings! 

Her petals are thick and fleshy, unlike the frail petals of wild flowers in our garden. Today, one of her petals, revealed a sharp thorn.

Like a stoic, valorous sentinel with a razor sharp weapon, this petal guards her beautiful temple, from unwelcome predators. 

 Only tiny, beautiful bees, swoon and dive, deep down into her hypnotic sea of pink. In time, their furry, velvety bodies are full of her soft, lemon-white, pollen dust. They celebrate and teach, the art of lingering, and sipping tastefully, from these divine, sacred, fragrant wells … 

Last morning, I chanced upon the love play of toads in our lily pond. I am not too charmed by reptiles, especially the ones with the warts and bumps. But something about this pair, made me linger. It is hot and humid where we live, so perhaps, observing the two of them in the clear cool waters refreshes me. At first sight, I think them to be a mother toad with her baby toad. My heart fills with motherly love, as I recall the beautiful and endearing sight of fluffy, baldish, cygnets on the back of mother swans during the spring season.

​But after spending a long time watching the subtle mannerisms of the two, I find it hard to believe that the littler frog on the back of the larger one, could to be a fragile, new born, baby toad. The smaller toad has a firm, stubborn clasp, that appears faintly annoying to the larger toad. I decide to read up about toads and their behaviour, and am surprised to note that I have been observing a mating ritual of two garden toads. The greater surprise is that the larger toad is female, while the smaller toad is a male. I like the attitude of the buxom female toad. I am especially charmed by her flamboyant move at the end. After this move, both of them, sink down and almost touch the bottom of the shallow pond, like two deep sea divers, helplessly plummeting down to the bottom of a dark ocean, in an utter surrender, when in an unfortunate, unforeseen accident, the rope that holds them buoyant and safe, snaps unexpectedly!

They both remain still in the shadowy depths of the pond. A few bubbles rise to the surface in a meditative exhalation. In a few minutes, she rises to the surface of the water with him. Her eyes, remain wide open. His eyes blink, during her sudden, unpredictable dives. She is unperturbed by my proximity. I feel a bit uneasy about her direct, open gaze. She swims to the edge of the pond, almost towards me. Will she hop out, unexpectedly? I allow her, her space. I allow him, his passionate embrace. Tuning in to the animal medicine of the frog, I allow myself my cleansing. Returning home, I too enter a pool of water, and joyfully ribet, like the frog, from one lily pad to the next. Cleansed, and rejuvenated, my being now overflows with peace and restfulness.

Can we be friends,

Allowing our souls to flower, 

to draw in fragrances that pass us by?

Can we be friends,

Holding mirrors and wholeheartedly marvel,

At the joy of this beauty all around us,

and within?

Can we be friends,

Loyal and loving to the intent of our soul?

Can we be friends,

Meditative in our solitude?

Can we be friends,

Patient to our wanderings

Compassionate to our longings

Receptive to the gentle breeze of love?

Can we be friends,

Flirtatious in our gaze

Allowing of sensuality, 

Allowing of a sudden vanishing, and

Be off into an inescapable maze?

Can we be friends,

In silence 

In playful banter

In studious, uncanny ways?

Can we be friends,

Like a butterfly set free



In flight 

Encircling colours, flavours, fragrances, 

and at times, 

none of that?

Can we be friends,

Light as feathers,

Flying an invisible, intangible course

of this mystic wind ?