It’s still November, on Day 715 of the Daily Poems, and we are about to veer from Australia yesterday to southern India today with our poet Preeth Ganapathy. We are living inside a prayer.
We realise
we are living inside
a prayer, when we walk up
the moss-covered stone stairways
of our breaths, listening to the silent music
of the bottlebrush and the firebush,
until we reach the sanctum
of this moment,
where we get to touch
the coucal’s sudden flight,
the velvet mist, the peepul leaf,
dew drops scattered freely
like blessings in the November breeze.
Preeth Ganapathy