I Wait
By Brindha Vinodh

Two successive severe snowstorms in February,

all the land shrouded in sheep-white snow

in Winter’s gloomy silence.

Four weeks since mid-March now,

birdcalls begin at dawn,

early vibratos of an incoming Spring.

I step out, liberating myself from the cocoon of Winter,

the air redolent with freshness,

free from the scent of dusty snow.

Gliding, blue pigeons spread their warmth to the yearning sky,

flapping wings, the first harbingers of the season of rhapsody.

I wait for flowers to drink the sunlight,

butterflies to dance with embroidered frocks,

emerald ebullience to uplift sagging spirits of one and all alike-

adolescents, adults, the yellowing souls of the aged.

I wait,

for in waiting there is beauty when you know there is hope,

the very essence of Spring,

when the earth bathes itself in the nectar of effervescence.