Measuring time in Idukki

Elsa Mathews

    The leaves rustle
    The minutes go by

    The mist moves over the distant mountains
    In an hour’s time

    I know the morning is over
    When the soft blanket of heat

    Gives way to the tap dance of sunrays
    On the mosaic

    The evening saunters in, caressing cool
    The heat remains, melted
    In the cup of sweet tea

    Soon the black stain of night starts to spread
    And as the singing crickets
    Hold the note
    I close the windows, bar the doors

    The stain takes on a darker hue
    Velvet, soft, threatening

    
Elsa Mathews -
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