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The Peacock
The Peacock Sujata Bhatt His loud sharp call seems to come from nowhere. Then, a flash of turquoise in the pipal tree The slender neck arched away from you as he descends, and as he darts away, a glimpse of the very end of his tail. I was told that you have to sit in the veranda And read a book, preferably one of your favourites with great concentration.. The moment you begin to live inside the book A blue shadow will fall over you. The wind will change direction, The steady hum of bees In the bushes nearby will stop. The cat will awaken and stretch. Something has broken your attention; And if you look up in time You might see the peacock turning away as he gathers his tail To shut those dark glowing eyes, Violet fringed with golden amber. It is the tail that has to blink For eyes that are always open.
The Peacock Sujata Bhatt His loud, sharp call seems to come from nowhere. Then, a flash of bright blue-green in the pipal tree The thin neck bends away from you as he comes down, and as he quickly moves away, you see just the end of his tail. I was told that you have to sit on the porch And read a book, one of your favorites with deep focus. When you start to get lost in the book A blue shadow will cover you. The wind will change direction, The constant buzzing of bees In the nearby bushes will stop. The cat will wake up and stretch. Something has interrupted your focus; And if you look up quickly You might see the peacock turning away as he gathers his tail To close those dark glowing eyes, Purple edged with golden yellow. It is the tail that must blink For eyes that are always open.