Birdsong

Dawn by skindancer666

birdsong
from dark trees
dawn

Tumbleweed

Tumbleweed by ptcs-photies

rolling tumbleweed
leaves scattered by the wind
would come to a stop
is this a stopover or
my final destination

After The Rain

Rain by joycegomes

After the rain, water drips from the eaves
Drops, in a row, splatter on the hard ground
Silvery webs of fine mist; the sprays weave
That hang in the air before drifting down

Trying to keep their families intact
Fish struggle in the fast-flowing rivers
Groggy, half-drowned worms and insects attract
Hungry birds from their dry, cosy shelters

Along the sidewalk, newly-formed puddles
Wetting shoes as people weave in and out
Or, you can remove your shoes to paddle
Not just for children but also adults

Thoroughly soaked leaves on bent heavy boughs
With pearls of raindrop hanging from the cusps
If I could get hold of those pearls somehow
Around your wrist, a bracelet I will clasp

Sodden flowers with their weary heads bowed
Shiver in cold as a light wind blows by
But they can heave a sigh of relief now
As dark clouds vanish leaving a clear sky

Note:
As a child, I used to paddle in the puddles after the rain.

A Walk With Pa

Telephone by paito2606

I am on my usual morning walk at the park and it is drizzling. I like to walk in the rain. It is cooler, the air is fresher and I like the touch of the light breeze that usually accompanies the rain. The trees look greener as if the rain has washed off the dust and dirt from their leaves.

The park is quieter as there are only a handful of us around. The playground is empty of the usual shrieking children, and the groups performing calisthenics like “Tai Chi” and “Chinese Sword-Fighting” are also missing.
“Pa, I remember the times that I rode with you, sitting on the front of your motorcycle with my hair blowing in the wind as we traveled from town to the army camp and back. I was very young then, maybe five or six years old, but I was not scared, with you sitting behind me and your strong arms around me.
I remember too the times we went swimming at the Burmese Pool. I used to sit with Ma and Ping (my older brother) by the side of the pool to watch your friends and you swim and play. How I wished then that I could swim like you.”

The lake looks “whitish”, reflecting the white clouds above and there must be a million ripples in it! I can see small waves form as the breeze blows across the lake. I can also see the rushes by the side of the lake swaying gently. However, the anglers are missing, deterred by the rain.
“I remember the time in 1969 when I was leaving for Kuala Lumpur to further my studies. I was surprised to find you waiting at the Railway Station to send me off. Although you had had casually asked me the time of departure, I had not expected you to be there because as I grew up, we had slowly grown apart. You were always busy working so we seldom met. I was asleep when you came back from work and you were asleep when I left for school in the morning. Furthermore, you became like Grand Pa – a strict, no nonsense disciplinarian.”

The butterflies are missing. These fragile creatures must be sheltering from the rain somewhere. The birds are quiet too. The drenching they received must have dampened their mood to sing and they must be sitting on the branches of the trees, cold and miserable.
“It was in my fourth year at the University of Malaya that I had to undergo an operation to remove a gluteal abscess followed by a skin graft. Imagine my surprise when I awoke to find you sitting beside my bed! I did not know how long I had slept or how long you had been sitting there. I was just glad that you were there.”

My shoes are wet from stepping on too many puddles; I must have been daydreaming. The colours of the flowers do not seem as bright today and some of the flowers are soggy. The branches of the trees are bowed down, especially the Rain Trees, and the tips of their branches are almost touching the surface of the lake.
“It was early 1975 and I had just started work in Kuala Trengganu when I was informed of your illness. You were stricken with meningitis. I traveled to Kuala Lumpur to visit you at the General Hospital. The doctors said that they have to operate. The chances were 50:50 and that you might not fully recover; you might even be paralysed or worse. I knew the graveness of the situation and was quietly worried. You looked normal but you could not remember anything we told you and would repeat the same question over and over again. You also kept asking for the time and I knew you were worried that visiting hours would be over and we would leave. I could sense that you were frightened which shocked me as you were such a strong man. I hated what the disease had done to you.”

I have reached the end of my walk now, gone past the playground again and out onto the sidewalk. I am now passing the big drain that flows beside the park. It is low tide and I can see the sandy bottom of the drain. It reminds me of a Song Video that I had recently watched. It showed a phone standing on a remote sandy beach. That phone connects to the afterlife and you can talk to the departed through it. The singer was bidding a teary farewell to her late father.
“Pa, it has been 34 years now. If I ever come across that phone, I want to tell you that I love you, and that I miss you.”

Memories

A street in Malacca by Lee Siu Wei

A quiet window
For us to peer back in time
To seek yesterday
At times with apprehension
Sometimes with expectation

Images that flit
In and out of our minds
Transient passages
Through the eternity of time
Bringing bygones to the fore

Impressions that stay
Stubbornly lingering on
Some with nostalgia
Some with pride and happiness
Others with shame or sorrow

Secret treasure house
Of great wisdom and knowledge
Grasped from experience
The foundation of our being
The essence of what we are

Reflection

Reflection by GingerGaijin

reflection-
calm quiescence
in remote isolation