The dash of Spring is here.
Every bird is a songster.
The bloom, the white waves
flapping against black rocks,
are rocking my cradle
of dreams with laughter.

 

The breeze is also humming
a stout tune,
perching off and on
the portulaca’s arches.
My world is a great domain
from out and within.

 

Doing the juba, the jig,
and other dances....

 

Alibaugh
1999

                          

Geeta Chhabra