Perfume of Promise

To wait and watch at the wayside

where shadow chases light is my delight
and the rain comes down, pours
in the wake of the summer.

With tidings messengers from unknown
skies greet me and speed along the road
as my heart within is secretly glad
and the breath of the passing breeze is sweet.

Dawn to dusk I sit here before my door
and I know that suddenly the blissful moment
will arrive and until then I smile and sing alone
breathing air filled with the perfume of promise.

Adopted from Tagore’s Gitanjali, poem 44

 
Henry Victor          01.01.2013