Sitting in the car on a Saturday early morning
Listening to the chirping of the birds,
After a long cold winter
Rises a bit of hope.
Spring is on its way.
I learnt to love the spring here.
The birds, the yellow Dandelion,
The grass with tiny bit of green on its tip,
The Apple tree in the back yard with white fresh buds,
My roses with tiny pink fresh leave
I learnt to love everything.
Still bit of nostalgia seeps thorugh.
Yearn for the morning Cuckoos.
Long for the sizzling sound of the coconut leaves.
The usual visit of the Seven Sisters.
The bloom of Gardenias with its heavenly smell.
The rays of the morning sun.
The bell of the close by temple.
The neem tree with the dancing fresh leaves to the rhythm of the breeze.
The May flower the first sign of spring.
The Jasmine at the front porch.
The Golden Orioles on the mango tree.
A miracle mango that escaped the squirrel.
A bike ride in the still dark dawn to the Yoga.
The one and half hour Yoga for which no body asked for money.
Noise from the kitchen which says Amma’s tea is ready.
My second brother with his usual cry for food with his non stop hunger.
My grandpa with his long steady strides, with a bag of some sort of herb
Requesting my mum to cook it for his lunch.
I miss everything.
A son who always late for his soccer practice.
A drive along the highway in 140km/hr speed to catch the lost minutes.
Rushing to work after dropping kids.
Shopping which is done as it is the end of the world today.
The paid Yoga class to release the stress.
I still have some minutes to reminisce the life I left.