Me, The Sparrow And The Tumultuous Rain

In the green mountain valleys,

where the gentle breeze does the weaving,

weaving tales of journeys, of life, of peace,

while the sky bends and touches the land,

I was understanding love.

In those vast expansive silences,

where even music freezes,

I was engrossed in nature’s wondrous spectacle.

A sparrow with its friendly glance,

sitting on a rock, sprouting with a plant,

asked me to come and join, and as I neared her,

moving her beak, she flew and pecked the cloudy sky.

Thunders striking with a crackling sound,

rain splattering around heavily,

the dense rainforests, there’s no umbrella to shelter them,

as I keep watching the tipper-tapper.

The directions, they melted in rain, lost somewhere,

so did the sparrow, where did it fly to?

will that little bird now, in such weather,

wander, straining and sorrowing?

bearing this rain, will its wing be in pain?

Or has it reached its nest, to its family,

sitting cozily, visualizing all of this,

seeping in nature’s tumultuousness?