The Croaking of Frogs

#NaPoWriMo #Day7

At times, I yearn to explore the world.
I trace maps and turn around globes,
Dreaming of distant lands ,
Marking cities and towns I will one day visit:
Madaba in central Jordan
With its wondrous mosaics from the days of old,
And the church dedicated to the Dragon Slayer;
Derweze, where there is a burning crater
Right in the middle of the vast Karakum Desert.
It has been aglow for the past forty five years;
Sur in eastern Oman and its white sand beaches,
Home to a slowly dying breed of turtles.
It is also the first place in all of Arabia
That wakes to sunrise every morning;
The Sri Pada mountain in central Sri Lanka,
Where Adam landed after he fell out of favor
And was cast away from the Garden of Eden…
And yet, there are times when I yearn for familiarity:
Sometimes when the Karkitakam rains
Whip the southern coast,
I’m back to my roots, contemplating.
I listen to the croaking of frogs
And the chants from the nearby temple.
It was here where Vishnu disguised himself
And dwarfed the local king
The place became Thrikaakara:
Shores blessed by the Holy feet.
The mind craves to seek the world,
And yet, it derives solace only from home.
The Croaking of Frogs
And the slow whirring of the ceiling fan
Gently lull me into the land of sleep.