Got an invitation to celebrate an ekadasi in Saint Dagwood’s park
Making friends and having kirtan happy as a lark
Peacocks on her sari and blue stars on his cape
Cloth came from all around cotton, silk, and appliqués
Mixed by the seamstress’ artistic hand
Mahaprabhu’s orange pants and rainbow kirta
A few freesias, lots of roses picked outside
Letting the long, lovely leis drape
From their shoulders to their knees
How the bushes smiled with pride
What ever else happens devotees hope to never forget
The peacock feather effulgence in Giridhari’s crown
Pedaling into the wind is like pedaling up hill. At the main street the light forces Murkha and I to the right. Going over the first highway the dvitya campa hatti is on the right. Today they feature tube rose. The whalers are sing and dancing and paying attention to every detail. The triangle was treacherous today as the beasts were snapping at Murkha and my heels, past Saint Dagwood’s park where there was a kirtan going on. Up the beach hill to the arena of Bhakta Blade’s kutir (what’s wrong now toffee nose?) the navapatra has near friends to talk to. Then it’s on to the sufferer thakura who has new leis. Many people are there to offer respect over the bridge to look down on the mountain men but they’ve taken their park away. I take my leave at the shop while Murkha sprints over the first highway to the long and winding answering the call of the ratha-bhojana-vrksa bowing his head and taking the kalarupa up to the sandhya. Many people are going by on the way also.
Seeing the thakuras in their red Chinese silk along with the creamy chodders and veil smooth as silk safe as milk, the touch that kills.
Once when Gaura Purnima was here
Seamstress was getting out her sewing gear
New outfits come about six times
Little girl suggests colors that come out sublime
“Out of the mouths of babes”
Joining together the anticipation grows
Curtain opens to begin the show
Devotees dance in four/four time
Leis maker stealthily gathered the roses today
Fragile, fragrant and very long hooray!
Vyau came along to blow Mjurkha and I along the way today. The southland has trees bending over in their higher portion. Floated down the big street. A team came in full dress but oddly enough they had big backpacks. Around the natural bridge going down the beach hill skipping through the downtown to the shop where I take my leave leaving Murkha to be carried by the breeze
To fold his palms to the ratha-bhojana-vrksa and sail with the kalarupa to the sandhya.
The baby blue dress for an evening that decide whether to be summer or winter. Matra-sparsas tu kaunteya they go on enjoying like anything.