A Sudden Thirst

From the hose held in once strong hands,
comes pouring like the rain,
a shower of pure and cool delight,
for those who lie and wait.

The grass below has surely seen
this scene a hundred times;
the old man comes and tends to them
without fail, always at nine.

He used to drift most fluidly
between rough trunk and rosy tree;
but when today he placed his feet,
his sundry gait mis-stepped a beat.

And looking up they seemed to see
a tired man at best;
off from his brow went to the ground,
a great few beads of sweat.

They fell and bounced upon the leaves
and danced between them wilfully,
until this last and little drop
was gently laid down near his feet.

It was its final
resting
spot.

Hurriedly upon this treat,
now thirsty grass swallowed wholly
the remainder of this last bead,
trying relentlessly to capture its entirety.

That little glass bead,
that dose of quenching utility;
it accepted with glee,
for it could not see
or say undoubtedly,

that he would return
once again, tomorrow.

- by Paul Immanuel (Thambu)