A Falcon Ode

Life has been utterly challenging  for a brief time in the past.  I almost lost the memories and favors of my beloved, rain.  With the onset of autumn, the first autumn showers brings back my lover and helps me recall the good times.  Hence, together we weave a poem of reunion and compassion.  This poem is the epitome of such immortal and eternal love.


Verily, how hard I try
to jot down an illuminating rune,
expecting from the dumb heart
to make the flowers bloom.

Sitting beside my window
with some distinct marks,
to free myself off the
last tiring date cards.

Suddenly, there's mist and stability
in the sky.
With coolness in the weather,
the birds quit to fly.

A tranquilizing petrichor
sweeps in.
The hope to weave a poem
gets clinged.

Twinkling on my notes,
are the tiny offlets of drops.
While shining on the frosted glass,
are the bigger raindrops.

The drizzles enlighten
at my gaze.
Nervous by my sight,
they become haze.

They greet omen to me,
the return of my beloved.
Someone lost long,
in the worldly flood.

Through my eyes
towards my heart and soul,
the silver beads infilterate
and gently they cajole.

Bringing to an end
my eye's forage,
like my orisons being answered
by a holy sage.

Looks like a higher
conspiracy foul,
to quench the thirst
of all the souls.

There's a sudden
sedentary urge,
to let go off
the ailing dirge.

The rain tempts me
like a flirt,
I ignore it for my
real stuff.

I hesitate at first,
to embrace the glittery.
The cold weather
denses my jittery.

The clumsy drizzles
turn into a strong downpour,
rushing my heartbeats
and uplifting it more.

Rushing me outside
in a gush,
my visage gaining
a timid blush.

The downpours swirling
around me.
Drenches a few,
then whole of me.

Filling up my anxious mind,
with purity and warm-fuzzies.
the trees, grasses and soil too
take the form of beauties.

The darkness stealthily
covers the sky.
Assuring me, the benison
is my pie.

I am slowly sinking
into my shame,
such is my
Light-o’-love’s fame.

Enticing me with flattery,
lifting me through the gravity,
thus, we together weave a poem
of love and morality.

Difficult it becomes
to express my gratitude,
for remitting me
from my own solitude.

The autumn rain
brings in delight to the core,
my soul glistens
like it never did before.

The poetic desire
is set on fire.
Together we weave a poem,
of classic choir.

                                         VEDIKA