The Muddy Puddle

By Brind Mittal

It’s raining, once again

It is that time of the year

The skies darken, and pour

The dripping glistening beads of water

The allure of the mist-

And yet the sight of muddy puddles 

Plaguing the city, each and every street

Filled with brown water and infested with flies

Still the damp smell in the air, relaxes the nose

As a way of mother nature showing an obvious-

Yet overlooked reality of life

The perfection of imperfection 

The yin and yang of everything 

That is or is to be 

All through an overlooked muddy puddle on the side of the road

By Brind Mittal