A Song 122

A shy sun on a February morning
winked
a wingless, yellow butterfly
drop on the first spring leaf
of a badam
in the school garden;
the leaf cupped the butterfly,
hid it from a roaming golden oriole;
the wingless butterfly
slid down the badam;
picked up by a four year old
at the school;
rested on the palm of the child
as her friends made paper wings,
gummed it to the butterfly;
butterfly said bye
as she flew to the badam, sky-high.
Kids earned wings;
to wing when teachers
swarmed the school;
wing back when teachers went home.
That day the sun got wings,
downloaded by the butterfly....
 
Valentine lines from the Lady of
Borivili for her Old Man in Borivili.