RAINDROPS KEEP FALLING ON MY HEAD – Poem by Aroop Mitra

It rains all night.
I love listening
terraces all pitter
patter , lanky date
and coco palms
like milady’s fluttery
fans swishing green
Venetian blinds
just veritable windmills
in my mind , but I’m
no Quixote , so listen
instead to violent
flux stirring space-time
landing in curve like
a dove , great shutters
swinging to and fro
much too much
the frenetic hand-wringing
staple of benign uncles
hysteric aunts and houseflies …
the rain reappears
flexing its soprano organs
romps thru fields flouncing
aglimmer with organic gold :
mustard vying with garlic
breathing silvern cantatas
whipping rye , parsley , mint
huge swathes of cinnamon ,
rosemary , pepper and thyme

like a lad
and his rustic lass their eyes wet
canaries sing their spoils
glittering in tangles
of naked memory ….even
as the rhyming scarecrow
gazes athwart Cold
Mountain , my limbs
flowering , in trios :
violets , zinna , pinks —
this cosmos
savage as wildthorn
briars , just
measureless as all
the drops
in every pond , rill , ocean
sinister as the brushwood
forests at dusk
scintillating in the sheer
halo of moonlight , and
attendant stars
an everlasting drizzle
soaking to the marrow
this silence , this death

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