Woke up this morning in a dancing mood
a peacock appeared before me
told me I’m a dancer and I can teach some steps to you
an ancient conversation that I know is completely true
asks ‘where are you coming from?”
“the feet of Sri Hari”
“I was in the forest dancing before him
while he danced behind as a pupil
mirroring every step”
so I took shelter of the master
asking him
Krsna’s Guru Nath! Can you teach me how to dance?
Today there are leis of fun flowers marigolds, roses, and amaryllis
In colors of their clothes
Murkha and I are off circling the southland speaking with the near friends. Laughing, joking, singing and carrying on anandam buddhi vardanam. Going past Mahamuni’s post box and the lion’s park where the sprinklers are turning the grass green. Along the coastline where the sufferers are bobbing and surfacing boats out at the harbor up to the natasala around the corner seeing the king at the treacherous triangle I take leave and Murkha to shoot down the ramp to speak with the bear sweeping around to the navapatra the pitch witnesses another game Murkha goes left under the first highway onto the main street at the long and winding the call of the ratha-bhojana-vrksa pulls him to meet the kalarupa and pedal to the sandhya greeted by a southlander
Bhakta Blade has begun helping them into their Prahlad-a-dad nightdress. The orange panel skirt of Srimati Gandharvika and sash of Giridhari they dance and sway the night away