Son of Summer and Storm

By Aranya Mandal

Son of Summer and Sun, he who covets spring and verdure,

He who desires wind through his hair and Sun on his skin, 

He who wishes to dance under the Sun and wax poetic in the moonlight,

He who wishes to be in the lap of his mother forever in tranquility.

His companionship lies in flora and frondescence, in the wild.

His muse is the spring, the shade of the trees, the gentle breeze 

The vast expanse of the golden greenery of fields and farms extending

Into the horizon, where it merges to the blue skies, which soothes his soul.

He gazes at the snow white clouds, at the golden Sun, at the birds soaring high,The dancing leaves in the breeze and the land that awaits the rain from heavens.

He sits upon the dancing blades of grass, and watches as the blue turns to black,

The gentle winds grow fiercer and the Sun is hidden behind the dark blanket.

Son of Storm and Rain, he who covets the downpour and the dark,

He who desires to be drenched under the torrents from the heavens, 

He who wishes to wallow under fury of the skies and ponder the world’s lies,

He who wishes to seep into the wet soil along the sliding streams of rain.

But return he must, back to a shade, under a ceiling of stone or steel. 

And there he shall sit and look through a glass window, watching it all, 

Listening to the wolfish winds howl, the dripping of the drops from leaves,

The clouds roaring like lions and the abyssal sky swallowing the distant horizon.

By Aranya Mandal