The View from my Balcony
A poem about urban life
Draped in a green cotton sari,
Water dripping from her hennaed curls,
She scurried to the clothesline and unfurled
Half a dozen baby flannels
Before stomping away in rubber sandals.
Beads of perspiration glistened on his face
As he tied a scarf around his slender waist.
Gripping the levers with gloved hands,
He maneuvered the shovel, created a heap of sand.
Red chili and other spices
Sun-bathing on an open terrace.
Guarded by potted plants and garden chairs,
They’ll be ready for pickling baby pears.
As the weather changed from warm to mild,
“Ammu!” screamed my impatient child.
I stepped inside my bedroom reluctantly.
I can never get enough of the view from my balcony.