For Jaya: An Evening Walk in the Hills

We both walk
On curved roads
Draped across mountains:

Vast mountains; tawny, in the late noon sun.

Our foot-steps
Crunch, then echo,
Breaking the silence-
The warm, russet silence; in our wake.

On, up-hill
In huffs and puffs,
We race with the road
The undulant road, till that lonely gray bridge.

On the way,
Slate-roofed huts,
Cow smells, cow bells-
Tinkling bells: and bright-eyed shepherd girls.

A dog barks-
Engaging wag
Dog-smells on me?
Friendly smells; so it trots with us downhill.

At the bridge
The stream’s all dry-
Naked rocks pray:
Pray for rain; and the raiment of green moss.

We look up:
A shrine. So high!
Red roof shining...
Beckoning. Lets climb there. One day................

A lone cart.
Its name? “Best View”!
Soft momos, steaming-

Steam merging, with the valley mist below.

There is talk,
From heart. To heart;
And songs too - old, loved.....
“Where is Love?”  “Oh, when?” I can only soothe.

The sun sets:
Pink, red, some haze.....
Sprayed across the West.
Keeping West beside us, we stroll back home.

Night descends-
Curtains of cold.
A road-side fire-
Tongues of orange flame and warm orange heat.

Suddenly
We stop and turn-
On a whim. An urge.
The silver urge, of a vast silver moon.

Then, we gaze
All bathed silver,
At that perfect moon-
Our prefect moment: freezing in Time!