Raga
A complete nervous system
is singing:
supple,
delirious
evening meditation music—
verandah shutters
wide open
to breezes and insects;
the horizon gulping the sun—
the bulbous, gravely jangled instrument
swooning
ever
more urgently
over a listening drone,
a drone that listens and responds to everything,
not least
the visceral throb,
the pulse and peristalsis
of two companionably babbling drums:
and the mind—
scattered
among the stars—
is content, at last,
with its place
in the
general scheme.
