Poetry - All

I stand at the edge of the south end lake Where the coy Koi are koi-ing Through the green leafy hydrophytes. They rise near the surface Flashing golden orange Where the noontime sunlight With reflections all around Dance in a quantum field Of earth, air, water and… Whatever else floats along And joins the cosmic band, Joins the coy Koi koi-ing joy As though Escher’s and Pollack’s souls Are cocreating in the Now A living ever-moving art. 3 worlds splatter and land Thrown at ra

It's the first rain since reaching India, the first rain in Dharamsala. Thunder cracks over McLeod Ganj and loudly roars and rumbles downhill to Dharamsala and across the Kangra Valley. The lightning is dramatic, a sharp, bright dorje cutting through the thickly clouded sky into the darkness of the night. The leaves rustle noisily in the wind like the clamor of a thousand small cymbals, and the rain, like a drummer, beats loudly on the tin and slate-tiled rooftops. The cool,