Sun rising over the Himalayas
up here we barely flap our wings
warm drafts from the valleys
pull through the foothills
that roll in endless succession
fold into each other
rough-cut emerald cabochons
rounded by the wheels of time
burnished by tireless winds
I ride the currents like ocean waves
feathering the clouds for hours
forgetting the monkeys that trash our nests
forgetting the dogs that gather to bark and claim territory
forgetting the people who feed on dreams
walking, with their eyes down
they bargain their days away
while my Obsidian wings
disappear into the mist
rising beyond reach of hope or loss
I glide in thinner and thinner air
become a flashing thought
a dash of calligraphy
black ink, on an ancient scroll
lost in the yellowing of years
The home where me, my sisters and mom lived in Landour, U.P. India