Pic: Toni Hagen
I read the other day
Of a valley in agony,
going up in smoke,
And smog, and fumes
And daylight choked on
some toxic gravity
In a distant recall
Two scores of an age,
I'd ride a Raleigh
through seven bends south,
and west on the ring
to the Stupa and back
through fluent paddy,
emerald, undulating
In the wind's breath
or up Embassy row
Past bamboo groves
in hushed green
past huts in taupe
children frolicking
on a crystal stream
to Narayan's pond.
I could go miles
above the rim
and almost touch
the mint white stuff
Glide thru' mist,
lose the hours
and come home
exerted, elated
Smelling snowmelt
In spring
Soak summer lavender
lapped in mustard
Or climb that wall
broken bricks
moss cloaked and all
just to pluck
that single magnolia
because she said so.
That was fun
but this is now
and it's almost gone