The Men of Indus
On summer’s eve church bells chime
Birds fly in choreographed formation
Sol’s golden fingers flickering on wings
Fingers silently piercing the window pane
Dust mites dancing in air rippled heat
Sol caresses an ancient carpet from Indus
Spreading across geometric shapes of old
Thick textured wool soaks up the warmth
Dulled and faded by time’s light
Frayed by the foot fall of many
Rustling pine needles murmur in wind’s breath
Hundreds of needle fingers waving in unison
Its crown a toothless smile swaying to and fro
Toothless smile becomes a toothless roar
As wind’s breath begins to rage
Garden shed roofs twinkle through waving needles
Winking in Sol’s glaring gaze beating down relentlessly
Scent of sweet mown grass mixes with diesel and dust
Clouds move as if in a dream across a sea blue sky
Unseeing, unknowing and changing with every breath
Time moves slowly and storm clouds gather
Light is dimming and blackness looms
A rolling rumble of thunder drums in the distance
An electrical spark streaks across the sky
C—A—A—R—R—A—A—A—C—K!!!
The smell of ozone fills my nostrils
Rain is set forth from blackened vengeful clouds
Sizzling as it comes to rest on heated stone
Puddles form and spread across parched earthen skin
Thirsty earth sucks in the moisture for life anew
Linked in harmony and beauty for renewal and rebirth
Nature is sated by rain, healing Sol’s destructive glare
With blackness the Indus carpet is also safe from the glare
But with the dawn Sol will begin its relentless stare
The men of Indus wove the wool many a year ago
But no matter how well forged time and wear will fade us all.
Copyright © 2013 Shawn D. Standfast. All rights reserved.
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