by Vinita Agrawal
The squeal of butterflies flitting from flower to flower
The slurp of pigeons drinking water at the bird bath
A sparrow’s placid tweet as it homes in at dusk
The huff of a light evening breeze.
The sigh of water evaporating in the sun
The trumpet of a rainbow conquering azure skies
The hum of memories in dry flowers
The stutter of mimosa leaves when touched.
The explosion of jasmines one fine morning
The whispers of the terrace wall to the rose climbers
The pitter patter of first rain on my face
The hiss of raindrops on a sun-scorched verandah.
The ribbit of frogs in the rapidly filling monsoon ponds
The chatter of peas ripening happily in their pods
The groan of dead leaves as if in a mass funeral
The warble of injured roots when brutally stamped.
The caterwaul of the north wind in the thick of a storm
The chortle of airborne twigs and sticks
The cackle of whiplash lightning on the world below
The grunt of the oak tree, weathering it.
The roar of the sea captured in a sea shell
The silence inside an ageless stone
The gurgle of chlorophyll in the veins of a plant
The speech of an uncovered fossil.
Sounds are nature’s words
Time’s own dialect
Sometimes soft, sometimes loud
if you would only strain to hear.
Vinita Agrawal is a Delhi-based writer and poet and has been published in international print and online journals.
