Meditation

(I live in a small English village. It is so quiet that when we first arrived from Bombay, the silence was deeply painful. The sound of a train miles away logged the hours for me. And, on Friday evenings, church bells ringing reminded me to breathe.)

Rust in bloom
against the pale sky
It is softly raining
outside the window of my mind
And church bells
Offer an interlude;

I can smell the rain
in a stream of wind and birdsong
And church bells
Glorify the hour -

I am reading.


mar 1999