I let the cold monsoon kiss my hair wet
as I smelled the rain drenched damp earth
and filled my lungs to the fullest with rusty tree-sap
which exploded into green leaves in my alveoli.
Wind lulled the wet land to sleep
as it woke again to the disappearing moonlight
when the sun touched the red horizon
and dew collected over the misty island
as it glowed like a girl on her fifth menstrual wave,
dripping on estrogen hybridized chlorophyll.
Dusk masked dawn as the capillaries of twilight made
the shadow of Alapuzha cast silhouettes
over the blue backwaters, sizzling
under the warm sky holding chirping birds.
Light escaped through the spiders’ webs
and emerged to burn insects.
The walls glittered silver and reflected
the twinkles of yet another starlit sky
that caught the flickers of candlelit dinners
of heavenly manna.
This poem is based on what my five sense organs felt when I stayed in the ever enchanting Our Land Island and Backwater Resort, Alapuzha, Kerala, India.
