Rain is about to pour down in torrents,
as clouds overhead weigh down full strength
over the muddy Ganges that’s calm as night –
stirring emotions, in lockdown – bound tight.
A medley of coloured boats near the shore,
as cards displayed on a Tarot reader‘s desk –
from which she’ll shuffle a deck at a time,
pull out cards interpreting mysteries divine.
It’s three months, still the coronavirus raves –
making us dance to its fluid psychedelic waves
that keeps us distressed – in a trance of anxiety,
but nature stares at us serene as the Hoogly.
The boats are ready and waiting to be rowed,
but not many souls in the mood for Hope –
to care to make a wish from under the bridge
that now looks gaunt and powerlessly still.
Young couples strewing the river banks –
on Saturday night dates, are still well masked
and cautious to maintain social distancing,
as Love in the time of Coronavirus is daunting.
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