In the cow pastures of Vrndavana
Sweet smelling grass and trees
Where Krsna and his friends play
Dust rising when the cows come home
“Pasture Media Time” is this outfit’s name
fluffy rose leis made so right
picked from the area under the shroud of night
some even employ a camping head light
when can I return to Giridhari and the ones that I know
to play again herding the cows
dedicate this life for the spirit to grow
with the vaisnava’s guidance it becomes a thrill
sprinting to the southland to laugh with friends. Murkha and I hammer past the post office slowing a bit at the lion’s park. up the hill and to the left to the lieberry turn on to the big street. Pedalers are out in the sun hoping to beat the rain that is in the forecast soon. Even some that have converted their pedaling rigs to motorized or electrified creations. At the harbor I take my leave, Murkha hasn’t got time to follow me to the shop today. He goes on to the ramp and sees the wharf road where he goes under the first highway to the main street. On the long and winding Murkha folds his palms and chases hard the kalarupa. At the mrga houses the rooster is there again. he passes the kalarupa near the mile marker and never looks back until he arrives greeted by the gangster of slokas.
Hiranya Kasipu the nightdress of gold and yellow soft silk. They dress at a leisurely pace and dance long into the night.