As I sit on my porch
I see clouds passing by
Will they halt for me to talk
‘Nay’ they say
“We are in mission mode
Have to rush
And reach the mountains with all our might
A little wind may sometimes help
Most of the time we push ourselves”
I feel so sad I have nowhere to go
I try to tell the marching clouds
The route they follow is not the normal course
The rain they carry is not to soak
Give our share before you go
Sprinkle a little on the roads
Bring a smile to thirsty folks
They hardly wait to hear me out
Ahead they troop with little care
Ready to cause havoc
In places I don’t know where
Gitanjali