My Mornings in Chiaroscuro
myriad patterns
of light and shade-
under the jacaranda
then, rainwater flows
down the sloping roof
into my fishpond
on my way to work,
the stray cat sprawls
on my car’s hood
challenging my ownership,
late again…
serendipitously,
floating in a puddle
on the road-
a rainbow!
I smile.
Christmas in Queens, NY
The school play needs
A wise old man, the one
Who brings the frankincense,
Whispered my child in my ear,
perched on my knee,
We also need to bring a tree,
Decorate it with lights and holly,
My friends will come to play?
His eyes looked into mine,
Yes, I said, you may.
It’s another Diwali!
His smile brought me peace.
Learning to Dance… Quietly
We, the children remember:
When Ma and Pa disagreed,
The chill air could give nosebleed.
We tip-toed around on gentle feet,
Kept our volume moderate,
What was served we quietly ate,
This could go on for days
Both were angry and obdurate.
The smell of coffee fresh
Brewed by Pa, filled the hearth
Sipped by Ma, touched her heart,
All was forgiven, and we children knew
the war was at an end, the signal
given for the return to normal,
till the next time they fell apart.
About the Poet:
Vidya Hariharan is an enthusiastic traveller, coffee guzzler and manic reader. The poetry gene jumped two generations as her great grandfather P.S. Rama Iyer was a Malayalam language poet and author. She lives and works as a lecturer in Mumbai, India.