A MIDSUMMER DAY

Was waitin\’ for my sparrow who calls me
Without fail, dead on the hour – My,! oh, my!
A new guest came down callin\’-\’twas bit wee
Yet he made that up with his fierce red eye
My pensive mood split by his cheeky beak
And yellow feet took him so close to peek
Does he seek my consent to build a grand nest?
Or those bleak eyes forewarn the storm from West?

He did come, the big storm, though a bit late
With howlin\’ winds gushin\’ to herald him
Pods burst to spray silk cotton just to fete
Some my son tried to catch in light so dim
But in vain as it soaks and falls as grime
The tamed feart Sun long gone for his lunchtime
An orange carpet welcome – he saw not
Flame of the forest, I saw it red hot.

I perched my achin\’ back on a soft chair
And swung the legs o\’er the hard balustrade
To watch the pageant blossom in full flair
With \’Demons\’ at hand and lot thoughts to wade
My idle brain conjur\’d the angel\’s wing
To soothe those mad minds that are venom tinged
And shall drive the dark demons far away
From rotten souls which sure are on decay.

As my mind, in ennui, began to rove
A brood of spotted eagles bunch around
In the silk cotton tree – a little trove
To dry their big brown flutterin\’ wings and frown
But why they gaze at me or I daydream?
May spy on \’their\’ behalf. I sense a scheme
Ah! Did my torpid mind turn paranoid?
That piercin\’ look- In my heart leaves a void.

Too many westerlies this very year
I wonder – Did the virus make them sick?
Or that blue waters of their birth, they fear?
May be this not so fair land is their pick
I sat there still with body and thoughts drench\’d
Free bath lean squirrels take and my thirst quench\’d
As the day wore on, a yawn made me glum
Still waitin\’ for my sparrow – will he come?

P.S 1: This poem follows Iambic pentameter with ABABCCDD rhyming sequence.
All the little events which inspired this poem happened a couple of days back and nothing is fictional.
Tittle somewhat inspired by Shakespeare\’s comedy, \’A midsummer night\’s dream\’.

P.S 2: Meaning and explanation
Dead on – exactly, fear – afraid, balustrade – a railing supported by balusters, especially one forming an ornamental parapet to a balcony, bridge, or terrace, Demons – a not so popular work of fiction by Fydor Dostoevsky, ennui – a feeling of listlessness and dissatisfaction arising from a lack of occupation or excitement, trove – a store of valuable or delightful things, torpid – mentally or physically inactive; lethargic, Westerly – winds which blow from the Mediterranean in winter and spring (because of a shift in the pressure belts due to the apparent movement of the Sun to the southern hemisphere) towards the Indian subcontinent and brings showers benefiting the winter wheat crop.

In the first stanza, the author tells about the sparrow to whose regular visits he is accustomed to (Sparrow could be a metaphor for freedom and rights). But, instead a bank mynah (a mynah smaller than the normal one but with a patch of red on the side of its eyes and native to North & Central India) visits him. It\’s bold ways and red eyes might warn the author of the impending storm from the west (West not only refers to the far away Mediterranean from where the westerlies come to give rains to the sub-continent during winter and spring but also to Gujarat which is the westernmost province of India).
In the second stanza, the author talks about the storm which has already started. It came like an Emperor with silk cotton pods bursting like firecrackers and the soft cotton wafting in the air with the flame of the forest flowers as red carpet, to welcome it. But the purveyor of all, the Sun, hid behind the clouds to miss all the fun. Was he afraid of the storm from the West like our \’right\’ honorable Supreme Court?
The third stanza starts with the author sitting with his feet up in his balcony to watch the rain and the other spectacles with a book \’Demons\’ in his hand. He then starts to ponder how to remove the demons from the minds of fascists whose souls are rotten.
As the author becomes a bit disoriented in such thoughts, he stops enjoying nature. But he is brought back to this world by a \’convocation\’ (family) of eagles which sit in the tree in front of him. As he looks at them, he is intrigued by their probing looks. He starts to have paranoid thoughts that the fascists have sent these beautiful but fearsome birds to spy on his thoughts. But he comes to his senses soon and shoos away such pointless thoughts.
In the last stanza, the author thinks about the reasons for so many westerlies this year. Maybe the coronavirus changed their DNA or they want to escape the eastern Mediterranean (Italy and Turkey) where the virus is in full swing or they may have chosen India knowing its history of being a fair land to all, not knowing that it\’s not so anymore. Such thoughts drench the author\’s mind and his body is already drenched in rain after sitting in the balcony for quite a bit of time watching nature at play. He still sits there oblivious to the passage of time watching little squirrels enjoying their time in the rain. But a yawn breaks his chain of thoughts and he starts wondering at the fate of his favorite sparrow.

Author:- Ravi R. Chokkalingam