At Dusk

Familiarity is a reprieve if not a comfort. And sometimes, it startles by being both.

There is generosity in the bewildered breeze dancing at Sunset. And love in the babbling of the coconut trees. A tea-cup is happily emptied in their company...in a series dedicated to similar emptying of tea-cups on many hope-filled dusks. I think the Sun has been grimacing in the same manner over here all these years. It doesn't change. It doesn't let the Sky change. Not even the people and pets.

I have learnt to walk here with eyes closed. I know where the old flowers are. I know where the birds sit. I know this trickling of the water from the droopy tap. I know the number of steps to the broken seat. I know it all!

So do the birds. They have watched my fumblings all these years. I am sure they saw while they ate and drank calmly....From the corners of their small eyes, while pretending to nod in affirmation of my decisions. Wise folks!

I see they have plastered the peeling walls. Covered the cracks. Tended to the rusty windows and coloured all things gone bleak and inglorious. Home stands. Wrapped in peace. In recovery and salvation?

Life though is reluctant still..