Bhagavadgita Pages, Chapters 1 to 18

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The Cloud and other elements 





Veeraswamy Krishnaraj

The Cloud and other elements                     

O clouds, you look like mounds of  Jell-O in the sky.

Your wiggles and squiggles entreat the puerile Muse in me.

 In a trice, you make continents and great blue lakes.                                                          

Sometime you look ragged, sometimes smooth.

You are white, grey, black, blue-black in one body.

You play hide and seek with the sun.

You cast a great shadow on the hills and plains,

And everything in-between.

Your aqueous arrows cheer my hot pate, smooth and shiny.

Pregnant with vapor, you break the waters

And replenish the aquifers.

Daughters of the sky, you glide down gently

In flakes, feathers and flurries.

Ominous and dark, you scare the crows and children.

You gently sweep the pother of the cities on your watery descent

And let us breathe the sweet air.

You bring hideous night at noon.

Your sinuous smiles lighten your amorphous distant face.

Your staccato drumming dissolve into a zillion water clatters.

You bring solace to dry riverbeds and parched throats.

You, the pillar of cloud, guided the Hebrews out of Egypt.

You swill the ocean and fill the lakes, ponds, and potholes.


O Nimbus, you rain hard, you snow hard.

You play ball in Texas plains; your home runs dent the cars.

O Supercell, you wring and writhe, right and left.

The whole firmament opens wide.

You come down hard in pails of hails.

Your winds snap the tails of planes,

Lift rooftops and send cows flying.

Your tornado sends people scurrying to basement cell.

Your squall brings squeal to pigs and all.

Your funnel tongue, black and swirling, ravishes the ground.

Your labrose lips and napiform head mow a clutch of trees.

You twirl and swirl; you swish and whoosh;

You kick up a cloud of dust and debris. 

You denude trees and smash edible heads;

You scar the newly laid lawn,

The matted succulent roots look up to you in supplicant mood.

The bones of the dear departed are head over heels,

Showing their mock grin.

The chickens soar high like eagles.

O Cumulus, you are Manhattan skyline;

You stage a show over and above.

Your lightning and thunder dissolve into thunderstorm.

Your thunderheads coalesce into mushroom.

You spiral down in flakes and feathers

You bring delight to the stone hearts and fright to the nimble feet.                                     

You crown me with white helmet;

My mustache is now a white thicket.

Falling icicles perform acupuncture.

Your frigid ambiance goes deep and chills the marrow.

You cap the mountains and move the glaciers.

You bring delight to downhill skiers.

You turn the terraced rice fields from green to white,

In their undulating gracious contours.

I will walk to heaven going up these steps.

You are glory when left alone.

Mush, I love; slush, I loathe.

 Veeraswamy Krishnaraj