Madhu Singh

Monsoon Song

Sing softly, O raging rain, for there are melodies of summer hanging on dried leaf tips, waiting to be carried by the barren breeze. There is dew of nectar on anthers of flowers, waiting to be tasted by buzzing bees.

There are seeds asleep in the moist womb of earth, waiting to crown tiny green heads in verdant-purple air. There are pale-moon, fragrant blossoms on apple shrubs, waiting for the crisp fingers of autumn.  There are ears of maize that have stolen June’s gold and secreted it deep inside rows of corn. There are earrings of green-gold rice dangling off the slim body of verdant stalks.

There are drops of sweat on laboring limbs, waiting to turn to the earth’s salt. There are fragile hopes of a billion farmers, whose very life breath is tied to these debt-enmeshed fields. There are a multitude of prayers, for you to come, but come gently, into these grateful lands.

swollen river
washes away the topsoil
empty aquifer
once again the dam breaks 
she thinks of her miscarriage

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About the Author

Madhu Singh’s poetry is inspired by nature and experiences gained by traveling.  She is experienced in the IT Sector and in her free time dabbles in free verse and oriental poetry.  She resides in New Delhi, India.